


Mischief Always Managed

by morasey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-06-30 05:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 31,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morasey/pseuds/morasey
Summary: This fic follows James, Sirius, Remus and Peter from the day they met until the days of their deaths, telling the story of a friendship that ended up changing the wizarding world forever.





	1. On the Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: All characters, settings, and everything else used in this work belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros., not me!

            Remus watched, transfixed, as a gleaming scarlet train wound its way around a final bend in its tracks to reach the parents and students crowded onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. _The Hogwarts Express._ He’d seen it only once before, in a photo he’d found stashed away in his parents’ bedroom—a picture of his young father smiling in front of the train as he prepared for his own first journey to Hogwarts. Until a few short months ago, Remus had thought it would be impossible to follow in his father’s footsteps. And yet here he was, about to board the train to the world-renowned Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The thought alone was nearly enough to make him keel over.

            His mother placed a hand on his shoulder; he turned around to find her gaping wide-eyed at the train and all the witches and wizards that surrounded it. Remus’s mother was a Muggle—although she’d more or less been living amongst wizards since before Remus was born, the wonders of the wizarding world never failed to take her breath away.  

            “I can’t believe this,” she murmured, just loud enough for Remus to hear her over the commotion on the platform. “This whole place, right in the middle of King’s Cross station.”

            Remus’s father was right behind them, pushing the cart holding Remus’s new leather trunk. “It’s exactly how I remember it,” he said, making Remus smile.

            “You’re sure he’ll be all right?” his mother asked anxiously. For the first time that morning, Remus’s spirit faltered just the slightest, the pain and weariness that always came with the waxing of the moon seeping back into his bones. Remus knew his mother’s worry wasn’t the same as that of the other mothers here fretting over their soon-to-depart children. She wasn’t worried that he’d get homesick or misbehave—she was worried he would wake up after one full moon a murderer.

            “Dumbledore assured us his arrangements will work,” Remus’s father replied firmly. “If there’s one man we can trust with our son, it’s Albus Dumbledore.”

            Remus swallowed, glancing up once more at the Hogwarts Express. He didn’t want to think about his condition, not today. “I should find a seat,” he told his parents. The train wasn’t set to leave for another twenty minutes, but he was itching to set foot in it.

            “All right,” said his father, giving him a soft smile. “Remember everything I’ve taught you, Remus.”

            “I will, Dad,” Remus promised, giving him one last hug goodbye. His father ran a hand through his honey-brown hair affectionately.

            Remus then turned to his mother, who’d bent down to meet him at eye-level. “ _Hwyl fawr, fy nghariad_ ,” she murmured. _Goodbye, my love._ Her eyes were brimming with tears.

            Remus fell into her embrace, burying his face in her hair. “Goodbye, Mum.” He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in her warm, flowery scent one last time.

            She broke away first, biting her lip and cupping his cheeks tenderly. “You write us at least once a week, okay? Especially after the moons.” Remus nodded, the word _moons_ dropping a rock in his stomach as it always did. His mother sniffed and laid one last kiss on his brow. “We love you so, so much, Re. Have a wonderful year.”

            Remus’s parents helped him haul his trunk up onto the train; he said one final goodbye to the two of them, then dragged his things into the nearest empty compartment and took a seat by the window, smiling as his parents blew him kisses from outside.

            A couple of minutes before the train’s eleven o’clock departure, Remus’s compartment door slid open, and a short, plump boy with mousy hair stepped inside. “Ex—excuse me,” he stuttered. “Can I sit here?”

            “Oh, of course!” Remus stood up quickly to help him pull his trunk inside. The boy took a seat opposite him, his watery eyes trained on a sobbing couple outside the window that Remus assumed must be his parents. The boy pressed his palm against the glass, his lower lip trembling.

            Finally, with a deep blow of its whistle, the train began to crawl away from the station. Remus pressed his cheek to the window and watched his parents as they shrunk out of sight, shrouded by the thick white smoke of the steam engine. They’d always kept him on such a tight leash due to his condition; this would be his first time away from them for longer than a few hours. The thought made him nervous, but also excited. After years and years of dreaming, Remus was getting the chance to live like a normal wizard boy, even if all of it was a lie.

            He turned to the boy sitting across from him, now biting his nails nervously. Remus had had very little interaction with boys his age, other than a few supervised visits with his Muggle cousins. Though he wanted one badly, he’d never had a real friend before; he’d never been allowed to. His parents had always been afraid that he’d slip up and spill his secret—but by now he was old enough to understand he could never do so. If the frightened boy facing him had any idea he was sharing a compartment with a werewolf, Remus couldn’t imagine how he’d react. He’d probably faint, or run away screaming.

            “Hello,” Remus said, giving the boy a smile. “I’m Remus Lupin, a first year. Who are you?”

            The boy blinked, surprised that Remus had addressed him. “P—Peter,” he said quietly. “Peter Pettigrew. A first year, too.”

            “Good to meet you, Peter Pettigrew.” Remus held out a hand to shake—was that something that eleven-year-old boys did when they met each other, or just adults? Peter grasped it hesitantly, his own grip weak and shaky.

            “I’m nervous, too,” Remus admitted. “For Hogwarts. I haven’t spent much time away from home before.”

            “Me neither,” said Peter. He seemed to have relaxed just the slightest now that Remus had confessed his fear. “I hope they don’t kick me out.”

            _Me too._ “Why would they kick you out?” Remus wondered.

            “Well, I…I don’t think I’m very good at magic. I didn’t show any signs of it until last year. My parents were worried I was a Squib.”

            “You’ll be fine,” Remus assured him. “Anyone who got the letter belongs at Hogwarts.” Even Remus, Dumbledore had said. If a werewolf had a place at Hogwarts, surely Peter did, too.

            Peter swallowed, nodding. “I guess you’re right.” He locked gazes with Remus. “What House do you want?” he asked him tentatively.

            “Any House,” Remus said. “My father was a Ravenclaw, so that would be cool, I think.”

            “What about your mum?”

            “Oh.” Remus blinked. “Well, my mum’s a Muggle, actually.”

            “Really?” Peter raised his eyebrows. When Remus nodded, he cleared his throat. “Oh, well, my parents are both Muggle-borns. They were Hufflepuffs when they were in school. I guess that’s what I’ll be, too.” He smiled shakily at Remus. “You look like you could be a Ravenclaw,” he said. “You seem very smart.”

            Remus laughed. “I don’t know how smart I am, but I’ve been reading our books for the year as much as I can.” He was determined to be the best student he could be at Hogwarts and prove to Dumbledore that he’d made the right choice in allowing him to come. Remus knew that all his professors had already been told about him being a werewolf; hopefully he’d show them that he could be a good wizard, too.

            “Would you boys like anything from the trolley?” a smiling woman pushing a cart full of sweets asked him and Peter, sticking her head through the compartment door. Remus jumped up and eagerly grabbed his little allowance bag of Galleons and Sickles. As much as his mother tried to discourage it, Remus had always had a bit of a sweet tooth.

            He bought a handful of Pumpkin Pasties and a couple of Cauldron Cakes, while Peter bought a bunch of Chocolate Frogs. They quickly agreed to share.

            “Oh, wow,” Peter said, examining his first Chocolate Frog card. “It’s Dumbledore. Kind of funny since we’re heading to his school, right?”

            “Yeah.” Remus took the card from him, examining Dumbledore’s beaming face. He still couldn’t believe what Dumbledore had done for him, letting a werewolf boy come to Hogwarts.

            _I won’t let you down,_ he told the face on the card. _I promise._


	2. Definitely Not a Slytherin

            The cool night wind tousled Sirius’s hair as he made the hike up a flight of steep stone steps to Hogwarts Castle, James Potter hopping along at his side. He’d met James on the train to Hogwarts, and already he liked him a hundred times more than any of the prissy pure-blood boys his parents always made him spend time with.

            Of course, James was going to be placed in Gryffindor, Sirius was sure—and Sirius would be Sorted into Slytherin, just like everyone else in his inbred family. Then he’d be right back where he started, with the prissy pure-blood boys. He supposed he should enjoy his time with future-Gryffindor James for as long as he could.

            “Bloody hell,” James breathed, craning his neck to take in the castle. “It’s _huge_!”

            Sirius grinned at him. “Good. Lots of places to hide from professors.” James raised his eyebrows mischievously.

            The burly Hogwarts gamekeeper Ogg stepped up to the giant oak door leading into the castle and turned to wait for the crowd of first years to join him atop the steps. “All right there?” he asked. Everyone nodded, and Ogg raised a fist to pound on the door.

            A cross-looking black-haired woman answered, thanking Ogg and ushering the first years inside. She led them off to the side of the entrance hall and silenced everyone with a simple clearing of her throat. Even Sirius was impressed by that.

            “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” the lady began. “I am Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House and professor of Transfiguration. In just a few minutes, all of you will be Sorted….”

            “Maybe I changed my mind about Gryffindor,” James whispered in Sirius’s ear. “She doesn’t look like someone to mess with.”

            “My mother’s told me about McGonagall,” Sirius said back. “Mostly to stay away from her because she’s a filthy half-blood Muggle-lover.”

            James smirked. “I’m surprised pure-blood parents like yours even let their kids come to Hogwarts.”

            “Oh, they almost didn’t,” Sirius told him wryly. “They hate Dumbledore. But they still respect Slytherin House, so here I am.”

            “Assuming you’re put into Slytherin, that is.”

            “Assuming I’m put into Slytherin,” Sirius repeated. “If not, they’ll probably barge in here and drag me back home.”

            “Is there a problem, boys?” McGonagall’s stern voice cut through the end of Sirius’s words. His head snapped up to find the professor glaring down at him and James, hands crossed tightly over her chest.

            “No, Professor,” James said earnestly. “We were just admiring your choice of robes. The green really brings out her eyes, don’t you agree, Sirius?” Sirius nodded solemnly. Some of the first years behind them laughed, albeit quietly.

            McGonagall’s lips went taut. “Follow me, all of you,” she said, turning deliberately away from James and Sirius. “It’s time for the ceremony to begin.”

            She led them through a set of double doors into the Great Hall, where the messy line of first years quickly proceeded to gawk and gasp at everything around them—the floating candles, the clear starry sky above, and the four House tables filled with older students waiting to find out who would join their ranks.

            Sirius swallowed, keeping his eyes fixed firmly ahead. He didn’t want to see the Slytherin table, where he knew his cousin Narcissa was snuggling up with her boyfriend Lucius and his brand-new prefect’s badge. He had too many second cousins and family friends at that table, too many people he had no interest spending his days at Hogwarts with.

            _I can’t be put in Slytherin. I just can’t._

The first years were lined up at the front of the hall just beneath the professors’ table. McGonagall dragged out a stool topped with a frayed old hat and placed it in front of them. The Sorting Hat; an old patchwork bit of charmed fabric that held the fate of Sirius’s next seven years in its hands. And it didn’t even have hands.

            “Don’t you think the way they Sort is a bit stupid?” he murmured to James as the hat ripped itself open and began to sing a song about snakes and badgers. “Couldn’t an actual person do a better job at it than a bewitched hat?”

            James shrugged. “Like who, Dumbledore? He probably doesn’t want to deal with angry parents sending Howlers because their kids weren’t put in the right House. Best to leave that to a thousand-year-old hat no one can argue with.”

            “Guess you’re right,” Sirius admitted. As the hat finished its song and the Hall broke out into applause, Sirius narrowed his eyes at it, wondering if it would yell _“Slytherin!”_ the second it touched his head as his parents had boasted it had with them.

            “When you hear your name,” McGonagall said, “please step up to be Sorted.” She cleared her throat, unrolled the scroll of parchment in her hands, and began: “Aubrey, Bertram!”

            Sirius was third on the list; when McGonagall called out his name, his legs seemed to turn to lead. James had to elbow him in the side to get him to move. “Go on, mate,” he said.

            Taking a deep breath, Sirius stepped up to the stool and sat, grabbing the Sorting Hat from new Slytherin Michael Avery and dropping it over his head. It covered his whole face, leaving the sounds of the Great Hall muffled and his vision black. It was just him and the hat now.

            “Hmm,” a disembodied voice muttered in his ear. “A Black. Certainly a Slytherin family. But you’re a bit different, aren’t you?” 

            _That’s an understatement_ , Sirius thought, assuming the mind-reading hat could hear him. _I don’t want anything to do with them_.

            “I can see that quite clearly,” replied the hat. “No, definitely not a Slytherin. I think we’ll go with…GRYFFINDOR!”

            Sirius sat for a minute in stunned silence under the hat as he heard a thunderous applause break out from the hall. Then he stood up, flung off the hat, and bolted down to the Gryffindor table, where all the older students had risen to their feet to welcome their first new member of the year. Him, Sirius Black, a _Gryffindor_.

            A ginger-haired boy stepped out to meet Sirius, grabbing his hand and shaking it firmly. “Welcome to Gryffindor House, Sirius,” he said brightly. “I’m Gideon Prewett, your new prefect.”

            _Prewett._ Sirius knew that name, though he definitely didn’t remember this boy ever stopping over for dinner at 12 Grimmauld Place—he was probably from a family of blood traitors one of the unmentionable Blacks had married into. Sirius grinned; his parents were going to love hearing about all of this.

            He took a seat amongst the Gryffindors and watched the rest of the Sorting Ceremony in a semi-trance. The red-head girl he and James had met on the train—her name was Lily Evans, according to McGonagall—was the next first year to be placed into Gryffindor, no doubt upsetting her boyfriend Snivellus. Feeling unusually charitable, Sirius moved over to make room for her as she approached the table; she narrowed her eyes at him as she took her seat and turned away from him pointedly, making an indignant _“hmph!”_ sound as she did so.

            Two boys named Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew came to sit on Sirius’s other side, and then it was James’s turn to be Sorted. “GRYFFINDOR!” the hat yelled out immediately, just as Sirius had predicted. James threw off the Sorting Hat and ran down to the table with his arms in the air, barely stopping to talk to Gideon Prewett before sliding in between Sirius and Lily.

            “Guess we just can’t get away from each other, Sirius,” James said with a blindingly-white smile. “I thought you were so sure you’d be in Slytherin.”

            “Thank Merlin I’m not,” Sirius replied. “I can’t wait for my mum’s Howler tomorrow morning.”

            “You think it’ll get here that fast?”

            “Positive. Our family owls are some of the fastest in Britain.”

            By now the Sorting was over, and Albus Dumbledore had risen to his feet, spreading his arms wide to both quiet the crowd and greet all his students. Sirius craned his neck to get a better look at him; his parents hated Dumbledore, which meant that Sirius was obligated to be a fan of him. He was an old, old man with a beard almost long enough to scrape the table beneath him, clad in long purple dress robes. Supposedly, he was one of the most powerful wizards in the world, though in the Black household he was only ever referred to as _“that batty old Muggle-lover.”_

“First years,” he began, “it is my greatest honor to welcome you all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And to all of you who have returned to us from your summer holidays, it is equally my honor to welcome you back.” He stopped for a minute to wait for the students’ cheering and applause to die down. “As always, I have a few quick rules to bore you with before the feast can begin. Firstly, I’d like to remind our students that the Forbidden Forest is, as much as ever, forbidden to enter without faculty supervision.”

            “Wonder what’s in there,” James said.

            “I heard werewolves,” the boy Peter Pettigrew answered nervously.

            “Yikes.”

            “Also,” Dumbledore continued, “as some of the returning students may have noticed on their way in, the Hogwarts grounds has a new resident—a tree transplanted and tended to by our own Professor Sprout, of a rare species known colloquially as Whomping Willows.” He smiled. “And if you get too close to this particular tree, you will soon learn how exactly it got its name. My advice would be not to test it.”

            Sirius gave a curious glance to James, who only shrugged. Why would Dumbledore have wanted a dangerous tree planted on the school grounds? Maybe he was a bit touched in the head.

            “And now that we’ve gotten through that,” Dumbledore said with a wave of his wand, “let the feast begin!”

            Immediately the plates and goblets in front of them filled with food and drink. Sirius grabbed a pair of chicken legs and dug in, wasting no time on table manners. James laughed as he watched him eat.

            “What?” Sirius asked with his mouth still full. “I’m hungry, okay?”

            “Fair point. I am, too.” And James grabbed his own chicken legs and began to eat in the exact same fashion.

            Lily scoffed behind them. “You two are disgusting,” she said, turning her nose up in the air.

            “We are?” Swallowing his food, Sirius turned to the two boys beside him. “Do you think we’re disgusting?” he asked them.

            The one called Remus Lupin choked on his goblet of cranberry juice. “I don’t know about that, but whatever they put in this certainly is.”

            Sirius, James, and Peter all laughed, and Lily turned away from them again with another _“hmph!”_.

            Once the feast was over, Gideon led the first years up to Gryffindor Tower, using the password _“peppermint toad”_ to get past the portrait guarding its entrance. The common room looked nice and cozy, with a huge fire roaring in the back of it and a smattering of scarlet-and-gold sofas and armchairs all around.

            “All right,” said Gideon once they were all inside. “Girls’ dormitories are on the left, and boys’ on the right. The top floors of each should be marked off for the first years. Get settled in, and be sure you’re up bright and early for classes tomorrow.”

            Sirius led the way up the spiraling stairs on the right until he reached the room at the top of the tower, with James, Remus and Peter following behind. It was marked with a little golden plaque that read _FIRST YEARS_.

            “Home sweet home,” James said as they pulled open the door.

            Inside were four four-poster beds, all neatly made, as well as all the boys’ luggage. James immediately ran over to the caged eagle owl perched on top of his trunk. “Aw, Lexie, I missed you!” he said, giving the owl a treat. Sirius wished his parents would’ve bought him an owl, but that was never going to happen. Especially now that he was a Gryffindor.

            The boys grabbed their trunks and dragged them over to the beds they claimed. They began to undress, Remus drawing the curtains shut around his bed to do so, which Sirius found to be a bit odd. James opened a window to send his owl off to the Owlery, and they extinguished all the lights, feeling more than ready to get to sleep.

            As Sirius pulled his red-and-gold sheets tight around him, the faint roar of one of the lion portraits outside reaching his ears in the silent room, he decided that this day would go down as one of the best in his life.


	3. The First Day of Class

            “Peter! Oi, Peter! Wake up!”

            Peter groaned, feeling a foot digging deep into his side. He opened his eyes to find his new roommates James and Sirius hovering over him, each of them dressed in black robes and Gryffindor-red ties.

            Sirius threw another tie at him. “We found these under our beds,” he explained. “Hurry up and get dressed, we’re going to miss breakfast!”

            The thought of food, especially after the amazing feast the night before, was enough to get Peter up. He stumbled out of bed, pulled on some robes, and messily knotted his tie. Not remembering what classes he had today, he grabbed his whole pile of textbooks and dropped them into his pewter cauldron to bring with him. His roommates waited for him by the door, James and Sirius bouncing up and down impatiently. Remus stood a little off to the side, looking much less energetic. He seemed paler than he had the day before, almost sickly.

            “Are you all right, Remus?” Peter asked as he approached him.

            James looked back, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah, mate. You’re looking a bit peaky.”

            “You scared for the first day of class?” Sirius teased.

            Remus looked taken aback by all the concern. “No, no, guys, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me; we should get moving.”

            As the boys took off down the stairs, Peter felt his stomach twisting itself into knots. Remus might not be scared for their first day of class, but Peter certainly was. He imagined himself failing at every spell he tried, every potion he brewed, and watching his classmates laugh at him and call him a Squib. He was sure his roommates wouldn’t be so friendly to him after that.

            Breakfast was just as delicious as dinner the night before, with bacon and eggs and toast and waffles and everything else Peter ever could’ve wanted. Halfway through it, a flurry of owls swooped in carrying letters and papers for their owners and dropping them in their laps. Sirius received one from a great gray, a little red envelope. “It’s a Howler!” he exclaimed with something almost like glee.

            “Better open it before it explodes,” said James, laughing.

            Sirius ripped open the Howler and dropped it onto the table before him. “SIRIUS ORION BLACK,” it shrieked, in the voice of what must have been Sirius’s mother. “YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO YOUR NAME, WILLFULLY MINGLING WITH BLOOD TRAITORS AND MUDBLOODS IN THAT FILTHY TRAITOR HOUSE.”

            The letter rambled on and on, growing louder and louder as it threatened to disown Sirius and informed him he would not be welcome at home for the Christmas holidays. Finally it burst into enchanted flames and burned down to nothing, leaving only a bit of scattered ashes in its place. Peter thought he would curl up and die of embarrassment if that had happened to him, but Sirius only laughed and let out a cheer as the Howler burned. The cheer was quickly picked up by James, and later Remus and a bunch of the other Gryffindors.

            “Well, that was a great way to start the morning,” James said brightly as the food vanished from their plates. “Where to next?”

            “Ask Remus,” Sirius told him. “He’s got a schedule of all our classes for the year, color-coordinated and everything.”

            “First up is Potions,” Remus said. “With the Slytherins.”

            James and Sirius both groaned. “Guess we’ll be seeing Snivellus again,” James said with a smirk.

            “Who’s Snivellus?” Peter wondered.

            Before James could answer, the first year Gryffindor Lily Evans, having overheard them in the hall, gave a loud sigh and said, “Don’t call him that. His name is _Severus_.”

            “Really?” said James. “He looks more like a Snivellus to me.”

            “Oh, grow up, James,” Lily snapped, strutting away from them with her chin held high.

            “I think she really likes you, James,” Remus said. James and Sirius laughed.

            Potions class was held in the castle dungeons, which were cold and dark and filled with jars containing mysterious gases and assorted body parts. It was not the kind of place that made Peter feel more at ease about going to his first class. Every strange noise or figure sweeping out from behind a corner made Peter jump, to the great amusement of James and Sirius.

            Remus was a little more sympathetic. “It’s all right, Peter,” he said softly. “Nothing’s going to happen.” Knowing he was right, Peter nodded, swallowing. He was being stupid, like always.

            The first years all filed into a large open room filled with tables covered in various potion ingredients. They took their seats with the Gryffindors all firmly on one side of the room and the Slytherins on the other. Peter and his roommates sat together in the back, hauling their cauldrons and new copies of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ onto the table.

            As soon as the clock struck nine, their professor stepped out of his office and into the classroom, smiling happily at his new students. He had light hair, a bit of a stomach, and eyes that were a strange shade of what was almost purple.

            “Welcome, all of you, to your first Potions class,” he said. “I am Professor Slughorn, Potions Master here at Hogwarts and founder of the Slug Club, a club I may one day invite a few of you lucky folks to join.” He winked as he said the last bit.

            “The Slug Club?” James whispered.

            “My cousin Narcissa’s in that,” Sirius said. “She and her boyfriend are always bragging about it. You couldn’t pay me to join.”

            “Today,” Slughorn continued, “we’re going to be brewing a very simple concoction known as Whistling Potion. If brewed correctly, the drinker will be compelled to whistle whatever tune the potion maker desires.”  He grinned. “I’ll be testing the successful ones out myself at the end of class. You can find the ingredients and directions on page six of your textbooks, and if you require any assistance, I’ll be in my office. Off you go!” And he vanished back into the office, leaving the students to their own devices.

            Peter flipped open his book to page six and began reading through the list of ingredients. Mandrake root, hippogriff tail hair, salamander tails, eel eyes…. Peter began pulling ingredients off the table at random, hoping they were the right ones, poured some goat’s milk into his cauldron, and began.

            Before long, his potion had turned green and had begun emitting a strong rotten-egg smell, which Peter was sure hadn’t been mentioned in the book. His roommates slid as far away from him as they could, gagging on the fumes.

            One of the Slytherin boys at the table across from theirs looked over, smirking and gagging as well. “Whose potion is _that_?” he wondered.

            “I’m sorry,” Peter squeaked out, desperately throwing in more eel eyes in an attempt to change something, but the potion only started to smell worse.

            Another Slytherin boy at the table spoke up, looking at James and Sirius instead of Peter. “Looks like your friend is the one who isn’t brawny or brainy,” he said.

            “Shut it, Snivellus,” snapped James.

            “I think I know what his potion’s missing, Sev,” said the first boy. He whipped out his wand, made a swishing motion in the air, and said, _“Wingardium Leviosa!”_

James’s glasses flew off his nose; he reached out to snatch them back, but before he could the boy sent them flying into Peter’s potion. It hissed and began to bubble and froth, green foam spilling out over its sides.

            Professor Slughorn chose that moment to come back out and check on the students’ progress. He immediately rushed over to Peter’s cauldron. “Merlin’s beard,” he breathed, “what happened here?” Slipping on a thick glove, he reached into the stew and pulled out James’s glasses. “I don’t think these were on the ingredients list, Mr. Pettigrew.”

            Behind them, the table of Slytherin boys was snickering. Remus looked troubled and was avoiding eye contact, but James and Sirius were glaring back at them so fiercely Peter was sure they’d set something on fire.

            “Does anyone have a potion that they believe is…suitable for testing?” Slughorn wondered.

            “Oh, Severus does,” one of the Slytherins piped up innocently, the one who had levitated James’s glasses into Peter’s potion. “His looks just like the picture in the book.”

            “Is that so?” Slughorn quickly left Peter’s side to inspect Severus’s potion, and a minute later he was whistling “God Save the Queen.”

            “Ugh,” Sirius muttered. “Of course his potion is perfect.”

            “We’re going to make them pay from this,” James promised, wiping the slime off his lenses and screwing up his nose. “No one takes my glasses and gets away with it.”


	4. The Very First Detentions

             Even after three more classes and two more meals, James was still fuming about the Potions class incident when the boys returned to their dormitory that night. “Those inbred Slytherin gits,” he growled, pacing back and forth across the room. “How did the blond one know that charm, anyway? We haven’t even had our first Charms class yet!”

            “It was the Levitation Charm,” Remus told him. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_. It’s one of the first ones listed in our textbook.”

            “Oh, even better,” said Sirius. “Nerdy Slytherin gits who start reading their books before classes even start.”

            “I started reading my books as soon as I got them,” Remus murmured, though if he was offended by Sirius’s comment he didn’t show it.

            “Well,” James said, “by the end of the night, they’re going to regret ever crossing James Fleamont Potter.”

            “Fleamont?” Sirius asked, hardly suppressing a laugh.

            “It’s my dad’s name, all right?” Fleamont Potter wasn’t too fond of his name either, which made James wonder why he had decided to grace his only son with it.

            “What exactly are you planning to do?” Remus wondered. “You don’t even know the Slytherins’ names.”

            “Well, we know Snivellus,” Sirius put in. “And one of them’s called Michael Avery; he was Sorted right before me. Dunno about the one who used the Charm, though.”

            “Doesn’t matter,” said James. “We’ll just punish the lot of them.” Reaching into his trunk, he pulled out a little box marked with a cockroach on its side.

            Sirius’s eyes widened at the sight of it. “Is that what I think it is?”

            James grinned. “Yep.”

            “Wait, what is it?” Peter asked.

            “A Multiplying Roach,” James explained. “Ordered it from Zonko’s. As soon as you turn it on, the number of roaches doubles every five seconds. And they can squeeze into any space—even the Slytherin Common Room.”

            Sirius clapped his hands together. “Brilliant, James. I’m in.”

            “I’m not,” said Remus. “It won’t work; you’re just going to get caught and thrown in detention.”

            “Not if we use this.” James reached again into his trunk and took out a cloak made of shimmering, silvery fabric. He wrapped it around his shoulders, and his body disappeared out from under him.

            All three of his roommates let out loud gasps. Peter tumbled off his bed with a yelp.

            “It’s an Invisibility Cloak,” James told them. “My dad’s. I nicked it from his office the day before we came here.”

            “I didn’t even know those existed,” Peter breathed, his voice an octave higher than it was before.

            “That is the coolest thing I have ever seen, mate,” Sirius told him. “We can go _anywhere_ with that.”

            “So, _now_ are you in?” James asked Remus and Peter. “There’s room for all four of us under this thing.”

            But Remus still shook his head, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a smile. “You seem to have it all planned out already, anyway.” He pulled out a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ , a book not even on the first years’ required reading list, and began sifting through it.  

            “Um…I think I’ll stay, too,” said Peter. “I would just slow you down if I came.” He was probably right about that, James thought. Between a foaming potion and three spell mishaps on their first day, one of which had almost taken Sirius’s ear off, James wasn’t sure Peter would be the best person to tag along on his mission. He would’ve liked Remus to come, though; if he already knew some spells, he could come in handy if they were in a bind.

            “Oh, fine, you cowards,” Sirius said, though he sounded more amused than angry. “James and I will go alone. But no ratting us out to Gideon, got it?”

            Peter shook his head vigorously, and Remus sealed his lips without looking up from his book.

            “Good.” Sirius climbed under the Invisibility Cloak, and James adjusted it so that it covered both of them completely. He stuffed the cockroach box into his pocket, and they were off.

            The Gryffindor common room was nearly empty; no one was studying or doing homework after one day of class. The boys pushed their way out the door past the sleeping entrance portrait—the Fat Lady, she was called—and into the hall outside.

            The lights were dim, with only a few sparse candles flickering weakly throughout the empty corridors. It was after hours, a time when the students were strictly forbidden from leaving their dormitories and common rooms without permission. There could be prefects or professors patrolling the halls, but James had been warned earlier by a couple of second years to mostly worry about the Hogwarts caretaker, an old man named Filch, and his creepy cat Mrs. Norris.

            “The Slytherin common room’s in the dungeons, right?” Sirius whispered in James’s ear.

            James nodded under the cloak. “Yeah. I saw the entrance on our way to Potions class.”

            The two of them had a hard enough time just reaching the dungeons; they knew they had to head downward, which would have been simple enough if the staircases didn’t move around or change location all the time. Finally they reached the ground floor of Hogwarts and found the steps into the dungeons, stone and reliably stationary.

            “Here.” James led Sirius over to a door carved out of the dungeon wall, the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Pictures of serpents twisted their way around the door, eyeing the seemingly-empty hall suspiciously.

            The boys knelt down, and James shook the Multiplying Roach out of its box. “All right, little bug,” he said, pressing the roach’s left wing to activate it. “Go scare some Slytherins.” He placed the roach on the ground and directed it towards the common room. It began to scurry along, another roach breaking off from it a few seconds later, then another. By the time the roaches reached the door and began to wedge their way through the cracks, there were more than fifty of them.

            “Any second now,” James breathed as the roaches vanished inside. He and Sirius held their breath, squeezing each other’s knees, until a girl’s frightened shriek rang out from inside the common room. James buried his face in Sirius’s shoulder to keep from laughing as the single shriek grew into a chorus of panicked yelling, cursing, and screaming.

            “Oh, this is fantastic,” Sirius whispered, a hand over his mouth. “I hope Lucius and Narcissa are in there.”

            _Mrow._ James jumped when he heard the sudden noise behind him, and twisted around to find a yellow-eyed, bony cat glaring right at them, swishing her tail back and forth angrily. James was sure she could see them, even under the cloak.

            “Sirius.” He nudged his roommate frantically. “I think that’s Mrs. Norris. The caretaker’s cat.”

            “I think you’re right,” said Sirius nervously. “If she sees someone misbehaving, she runs right off to him to get them in trouble.”

            Sure enough, the cat turned tail and vanished down another hallway. “And there she goes,” James said.

            “Oaky, let’s get out of here.” The boys jumped up and headed quickly for the stairs out of the dungeons. Once outside, they tore down a hall at random, having no idea where they were going. James’s shoe caught on the hem of the cloak, and it was ripped off of him and Sirius, leaving them visible again.

            “Bollocks.” James spun around to pick up the cloak, but before he could throw it back on a figure jumped out from around a corner, the lantern in his hand lighting up his old, cruel face. Beside him trotted the yellow-eyed cat, looking almost smug.

            James and Sirius stood still as the man rushed over to them, his mouth twisted in a yellow-toothed snarl. “Only one day of class, and we already have students prowling about the castle,” he growled. “I wonder, could the two of you have anything to do with the ruckus in the Slytherin common room?”

            “Oh, I don’t think the Slytherins need anyone’s help to cause a ruckus,” replied Sirius. “Have you met them?”

The man—Filch—was now close enough for them to taste his moldy breath. He held his lantern up to each of their faces, studying them. “Ah, first years, I see. What are your names?”

            “I’m Snivellus,” said Sirius, “and this here is Fleamont.” James bit back a laugh.

            “I don’t think so, Mr. Black,” said Filch, ripping the laugh from James’s lips. “I keep track of all the students who come through this school, you see. Especially the Blacks. Your family has given me lots of trouble, and I can see you’re shaping up to be no different.”

            “Well, that wasn’t very nice,” Sirius said reproachfully. “Asking our names when you already know them. You deserved to get a wrong answer for that.” James was impressed by how cocky Sirius was in the face of someone who had the power to punish him however he liked; then again, James could guess that he’d been in the same situation many times before with his family. It made James feel cockier, too.

            Filch directed his light down to James’s arms, currently holding the Invisibility Cloak tightly behind his back. “What have you got there, Mr. Potter?” he asked. “Hiding something?”

            Very reluctantly, James showed Filch the cloak, not knowing what else he could do. Filch snatched it from his hands and examined it with narrowed eyes. “What is this?” he demanded. “A cloak?”

            “My parents got it for me at Madam Malkin’s,” James told him. “It’s rubbish, though. Silver isn’t really my color.” Hopefully Filch wouldn’t try it on, and find out how very much not rubbish the cloak was.

            “Well, seeing how eager you were to keep this from me, I think I’ll be taking it just in case.” And Filch slung the cloak over his shoulder. Before James could get too upset, Sirius shot him a look that said, _We’re going to get it back_. James nodded.

            “And you boys,” Filch continued, “have the honor of being given the very first detentions of the year.”

            James and Sirius’s high-five at this statement did nothing to improve the expression on Filch’s face.


	5. The First Moon

            Remus’s classes were all going great until his very last one of the week, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

            The class’s professor, Professor Byrne, was a tall man in his thirties with long dark hair and a tight face. He paced across the front of the room as the students came in and took their seats. Strewn around the walls were pictures and diagrams demonstrating various curses and protections against them, as well as anatomy charts for different Dark creatures. One of these charts, Remus noticed very quickly, depicted a half-transformed werewolf.

            “Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts,” said Professor Byrne. “In this class, you will learn to protect yourself from wizards and creatures who wish you harm. The magical world is full of wonder and beauty, of course; but evil is present in equal amounts, and it is my job to prepare you for it.”

            He cleared his throat and began to read names off of his attendance roll. Halfway through, he stopped abruptly and glanced up, his dark eyes flitting warily across the classroom. “Remus Lupin,” he said, his voice suddenly different, almost a growl.

            His roommates heard the change, twisting around in their seats to look at Remus confusedly. For a second Remus considered not saying anything; he could make up a different name, pretend to be a transfer student or something. But he knew with a sinking feeling in his chest that Professor Byrne would find out the truth soon enough, and then things would be even worse for him. So Remus raised his hand, looking down into his lap as he did.

            It was the first time since he’d arrived at Hogwarts that the reality of what Remus was had hit him, how his true self was viewed by everyone else. All his other professors had made no show of learning that he was _the werewolf student_ ; most hadn’t even batted an eye. Remus had almost started to think that all his father’s warnings about how horribly wizards viewed werewolves, the warnings that justified the Lupins moving from house to house throughout his childhood, had been exaggerated. But no, his father had been right all along—Remus was a Dark creature like the ones Professor Byrne had spent his career teaching his students to fight against, and he was not at all welcome in his classroom.

            “What did you do to piss off the professor, Re?” James asked as soon as they were out of class. “Our first class, and he already can’t stand you—I’m impressed.” Remus didn’t answer; he sort of felt like he was going to throw up.

            And then it was September fifth, the day of the full moon. Remus’s senses always went haywire when the moon was this close; his vision dulled, and noises and smells were amplified until they consumed him. It was something he’d been able to deal with well enough in the small Welsh villages he’d lived in with his parents, but here at Hogwarts, it was overwhelming. He only lasted about five minutes in the Great Hall for dinner before he had to excuse himself. “I feel sick,” he muttered to his roommates; “I think I’m going to go lie down.”

            “You _look_ sick, mate,” Sirius observed. “You look like you’ll pass out just climbing the stairs.”

            “I’ll be fine,” Remus promised. He always felt frail right before the full moon, and sometimes dizzy like he’d lost a lot of blood—but he’d never passed out. His body always managed to keep him conscious through all of the agony.

            Entering the quiet dormitory at the top of Gryffindor Tower, Remus let out a sigh of relief. He gave himself a couple of minutes to rest, sitting on the edge of his bed with his eyes shut; then he got up to make his final preparations for the night. Into a small duffel bag he stuffed a set of comfortable clothes for the next day and a few books to read while he recovered from his transformation.

            He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed to the door, but stopped when a thought occurred to him: his roommates might wonder what happened to him if he disappeared without a trace in the middle of the night. They might get worried; they’d certainly been worried about him over the past few days. It was a wonderful thought, to consider that someone other than his parents would ever care about him enough to worry. So he took a quill and strip of parchment and scribbled a quick note to leave on his bed: _Felt sick, went down to hospital wing_. _Don’t worry_.

            He met a slight woman with braided blonde hair at the entrance to the school hospital wing, just as he’d been instructed. As he approached, her stern face seemed to soften, and her mouth stretched into a small smile. She glanced over Remus, taking in his pallor and weakened limbs, and her eyes filled with pity. Remus wasn’t sure how much he liked the pity, but at least this woman wasn’t afraid of him.

            “Hello, dear,” she said, reaching out a hand. “I’m Madam Pomfrey, the school matron.”

            “Remus,” Remus said, shaking her hand. Madam Pomfrey took his duffel bag and rushed it inside the hospital wing, then returned to lead Remus out onto the school grounds.

“Did you eat a good dinner?” Pomfrey asked him. Remus nodded, even though he’d barely eaten anything. He was never hungry before his transformations, only during them.

            “Well, Dumbledore’s told you about the tree, I suppose,” Pomfrey said, pointing towards the Whomping Willow they were approaching. It was waving its limbs threateningly, ready to smack down anyone who got too close.

            Remus nodded. “He said it protects the passage to where I’ll be staying?”

            “Exactly,” Pomfrey confirmed. “You’ll see.” When they reached the tree, Pomfrey quickly looked around to make sure no students were in sight; then she grabbed a long stick off the ground, reached under the Willow’s branches, and prodded a knot at the base of its trunk. Immediately the limbs went still, freezing in place; Remus gasped.

            Madam Pomfrey led him up to the trunk and down a narrow passageway that reached underneath it. It opened into a dark, quiet tunnel; Madam Pomfrey lit up her wand and gestured for Remus to follow her down it.

            The tunnel was long and narrow and cold; the chill affected Remus more severely in his weakened state, and by the time they reached the end of it his teeth were chattering. Madam Pomfrey threw her sweater over his shoulders as she helped him up out of the passageway and into a darkened little shack.

The shack’s windows and front door had all been boarded up, leaving no way inside other than the tunnel under the Willow. Pomfrey gave him a quick tour of its rooms; there were tables and sofas and even a bed upstairs, as if Remus would be able to get any sleep on a transformation night. _Dumbledore had all this built for me_ , he thought. It was crazy that he would go through so much trouble just to allow one student to attend his school; Remus felt a rush of gratitude as he looked around.

            “If there’s anything that you think would make you more comfortable here, let me know,” Madam Pomfrey told him.

            “I don’t think so,” Remus said. There was not much that could make him feel comfortable once he transformed. “Thank you. You should probably go now, though.” The windows were all covered, but Remus could tell it was getting close to nightfall; he felt it in his bones.

            Madam Pomfrey gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, insisted he keep her sweater, and disappeared down the stairs. As soon as she was gone, Remus took off the sweater as well as the rest of his clothes, leaving them folded on top of a dresser where he doubted his wolfish self would be able to reach them. If he kept his clothes on when he transformed, they’d be torn to shreds by the end of the night.

            Remus lowered himself onto the bed, wrapping its sheets around his hands. He hoped Dumbledore had not put too much effort into picking the furniture; it would all be in ruins after a few full moons.

            Remus was glad the windows were boarded up. He didn’t like to watch, to see the sun set and the moon rise up to take its place, its pull on his body strengthening every second. He preferred the darkness, and never having to look at that cursed silver disc that he knew would change him into a monster.

            The pain grew and grew until Remus heard the distinctive _crack_ in his bones that meant his transformation was beginning. With a yell, he fell off the bed and onto his knees, feeling his bones and muscles slowly shifting and watching as his hands curled up into clawed paws. His head ripped itself apart to grow a wolf’s snout, his ears changing shape as they were pulled to the top of his head.

            And then, at last, the curse reached Remus’s mind. It was like a tidal wave, crashing down all at once: one second his head was filled with thoughts and fears and feelings, and the next it all was gone, replaced only by a wild, savage hunger that called for blood. He let out a howl, filled with anger and fear and loneliness, and by the time it had finished echoing around the shack Remus was no more, and the wolf was all that was left.


	6. Filch's Office

           On the last night of their three weeks of detention, Filch had James and Sirius clean out his own office. “I don’t want to see a speck of dust in here when you’re done, or you’ll be coming back tomorrow night to finish the job,” Filch threatened. “And if I find anything a hair out of place, I’ll add another week of detentions.”

            James and Sirius gave each other exasperated looks. They’d already had to polish the school trophies and candelabras, sort out Slughorn’s potion stocks, prune Shrivelfigs, and all sorts of other unpleasant tasks throughout the castle. It was more fun with James, of course, who always found ways for them to entertain themselves while they worked, but Sirius was more than ready to be done with it all.

            “I want all my files organized, all my chains oiled, and all surfaces wiped down. Got it?”

            “Got it,” Sirius confirmed, resisting the urge to say something smart. Filch nodded, and locked them inside his office.

            Sirius sighed as he took in the room. Its filing cabinets were overflowing with papers and folders sticking out at haphazard angles, and dusty shackles and manacles hung down from the walls. By the looks of them, they hadn’t been used in ages, which Sirius supposed was somewhat relieving.

            “All right,” James said, cracking his knuckles. “I’ll start with sorting out the files, and you can deal with the medieval torture devices. Sound good?”

            “Fine with me.” Grabbing some wipes and a bottle of linseed oil, Sirius climbed on top of Filch’s desk and got to work scrubbing and oiling.

            “Hey, look at this.” James held up a folder on which the names _James Potter and Sirius Black_ had been scrawled. “We’ve got our own folder, Sirius.” He took out the one slip of paper inside of it, detailing the prank they’d pulled on the Slytherins.

            “What an honor,” Sirius said with a laugh. “We’ll have to be sure it’s filled by the time we leave here.”

            “Oh, I think we can fill a whole cabinet by the time we leave,” James replied. “That’s my goal, at least.”

            “Mine, too.” Sirius finished with the last of the shackles, then hopped down to help James with the files.

            One of the first folders he came across was labelled _Orion Black_. It was stuffed with files, some of which looked to have been spattered with blood. “Looks like my father was a bit of trouble here, too,” Sirius said, showing James the folder.

            “That’s your _dad_?” James flipped through its papers with widened eyes. “Blimey. I should look for my parents in here, too. I wonder what kind of things they got into in school.”

            Sirius took back his father’s folder, tucking the papers neatly inside of it. “I wonder if he’d be proud I’m following in his footsteps,” Sirius said. “But we’re in here for messing with the Slytherins, so probably not.”

            It was another few minutes before James spoke up again, and when he did, his voice was quieter and more careful. “Hey, Sirius?” he asked. “I know you don’t like to talk much about your family, but…what happened with them? I know they’re crazy pure-blood gits and all, but how come you’re not one, too?”

            _Oh, Merlin._ Had Sirius ever been like his parents? Had he ever liked them, loved them, even, the way sons were supposed to? He thought for a long time before answering. “Because of my brother Reggie, I think.”

            James blinked at him; Sirius realized he’d never mentioned his brother before. “My mum started picking on him almost before he could walk. Thought he was too slow, and didn’t show enough signs of magic. And, well, he was my little brother. I couldn’t let her get away with it. So I stood up to her, and soon enough she made me her target instead.”

            “Ouch,” James said with a wince. “I’m sorry, mate.”

            Sirius shook his head. “I’m not; who knows how I would’ve turned out if my parents actually liked me. I’d probably be mates with Snivellus instead.” Both boys shuddered at the horror. “Now Reggie’s just like the rest of them, all ready to join up with the Slytherins. I just feel bad for him, really.”

            The boys cleaned in silence for a while, Sirius’s words hanging over their heads like another layer of dust. Then, when he was scrubbing beneath Filch’s desk, James exclaimed that he’d found a locked box pressed up against the wall. “Confiscated Items,” he read excitedly, pulling it out. “D’you reckon my cloak’s in here?”

            “Probably,” Sirius said. “But I’m sure Filch has put some enchantment over it so it can’t be opened.”

            “Well, we know the charm,” said James. “Can’t hurt to try, can it?” He waved his wand at the lock and muttered, _“Alohomora.”_

            The box sprang open; James shot Sirius a satisfied glance. Sirius raised his eyebrows, surprised Filch hadn’t used any magic to keep people out of the things he’d filched.

            “Aha,” James cried, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak. “Thank Merlin. I was missing this.”

            “What else is in there?” Sirius wondered, leaning in over the box. It was filled with Zonko’s products, Auto-Answer Quills, bewitched parchment, and plenty of things Sirius had never seen before. He pulled out a Fanged Frisbee. “I’d say we stock up on these,” he said; “they’re perfect for pissing people off in the halls.”

            James held out a hand to stop him. “If we take everything in here, Filch will realize and he’ll know it was us. My cloak’s practically invisible anyway, but we can’t take the whole box.” 

            “Oh, come on,” Sirius said. “We bested Filch with _Alohomora_. Are you really that afraid of him?”

            “Not _afraid_ ,” James said defensively. “I’m just tired of spending every night in detention, that’s all. Besides, with my cloak, we can find a way into Hogsmeade and get things from Zonko’s ourselves.”

            Sirius tilted his head. “Promise?”

            “I promise,” James said. “The Invisibility Cloak’s worth a thousand Fanged Frisbees, trust me.”

            “Fine,” Sirius sighed, throwing the Frisbee back in. “I guess you’re right. I don’t think I could stand another night of polishing old Quidditch trophies.” 

            So the boys locked the box back up and returned to work, James stuffing the Invisibility Cloak deep inside his coat pocket.


	7. Peter's Discovery

            “Happy Halloween, Petey!” Sirius said, placing a small jack-o’-lantern on top of Peter’s head and scampering away.

            Peter shook it off and threw it back at him. The pumpkin’s smile turned into an _O_ of surprise as it was chucked across the hall. “Halloween was three days ago, you know.”

            “Well, it’s a holiday worth three days of celebration,” Sirius said defensively. He left the jack-o’-lantern on a little shelf in the entrance hall as the boys pushed their way out onto the Hogwarts grounds.

            It was a beautiful day, bright and sunny and warm for early November. Peter had hoped it would rain or snow or something; maybe then Mr. Sprucing would’ve cancelled flying lessons. Peter hated flying lessons.

            “Come on!” James called, running ahead. “We’re going to be late!” He loved the classes, of course; he was fantastic at flying. Mr. Sprucing had already told him he should try out for the Quidditch team next year, something that James never failed to gloat about. Remus was decent on a broom, too, but he wasn’t even at school for the lesson. He’d gone home the day before to visit his ill mother, just as he had a month ago.

            Peter trailed behind James and Sirius as they ran up the hill to where flying class was held. Most of the class—first year Gryffindors and Slytherins—was already there, and so was Mr. Sprucing, leading his students through some stretching exercises while he waited for the stragglers to arrive.

            “Okay, you all,” he said once all of them had gathered, “today we’ll be practicing some basic air maneuvers. You should all know by now how to rise, dive, and turn; now you will learn how to flip and roll.” _Flipping_ and _rolling_ did not sound like it would be easy, especially for Peter, who had barely been able to accomplish the first things Sprucing mentioned.

            The students took their places behind the old broomsticks spread out across the grass, each a few feet away from its nearest neighbor. Peter ended up separated from James and Sirius and instead was placed with Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald on one side of him and three Slytherin boys—Snape, Avery, and Mulciber—on the other. Mulciber looked at him with a sneer twisting his face; Peter thought back to the time last week when he’d charmed a bucket of water to dump itself out on his head. He hadn’t been with his roommates at the time, and he’d been too embarrassed to tell them about it later, but now he wondered if maybe he should have. They would’ve stuck up for him; they always did.

            The students called the brooms to their hands with the command _“Up!”_ Peter’s broom didn’t jump into his hand until his third try; he knew it could sense his nervousness. They all mounted their brooms, Peter’s hands wrapped so tightly around his that his knuckles turned white, and pushed off from the ground at Sprucing’s command.

            Peter eased the head of his broom upward, his confidence decreasing with every foot he rose above the ground. “Scared, Pettigrew?” taunted Avery, laughing at the expression on Peter’s face and the sweat forming on his brow.

            “Oh, leave him alone,” snapped Lily.

            The students were directed to hover about twenty feet above the ground. Mr. Sprucing flew in a circle around the group, inspecting their form on the broomsticks. “All right,” he said, “now we’re going to try a single right broom roll. Watch as I demonstrate.” Pressing his knees tightly to the sides of his broom, he leaned hard to the right, and rolled around in a tight, fast circle before finishing perfectly upright. “The trick is to put enough weight into your lean,” he explained, “so the momentum gets you all the way around. Otherwise you’ll be dangling upside-down from your brooms.” Peter shuddered. 

            “Now, on the count of three, I want you all to try it,” said Sprucing. “One, two, three!”

            Peter flattened himself against his broom, squeezed shut his eyes, and leaned to the side as if trying to fall out of a chair. The wind whooshed in his ears; when Peter opened his eyes, he saw only sky above him. He was upside-down, just as Sprucing had warned against.

            Peter felt his hands, caked in nervous sweat, slipping off the broom; he pressed his knees tightly together until they bit into the broom wood, but even those were losing their grip. And then, out of nowhere, another broom rammed into his—Avery’s—and Peter was falling through the sky, the other students’ figures growing smaller and smaller until he hit the ground with a sickening _thud_.

            Pain shut up his whole body, the arm that cushioned his fall going quickly numb. Peter cried out, his vision swarming with little black dots.

            “Peter.” Suddenly Mr. Sprucing was standing over him, his voice muffled like he was speaking through cotton. “Peter, say something. Are you all right?” But Peter couldn’t say anything; all he could do was whimper and scream and cry. The pain was terrible, like fire spreading through his veins. His body was lifted off the grass by a spell Mr. Sprucing had cast; behind him, Peter could see through watery eyes that the rest of the students were back on the ground. Sirius and James were yelling something at Avery, who was laughing with his head thrown back. Then Peter closed his eyes, the pain so overwhelming it sent him to sleep.

            When Peter came to, the pain had dulled greatly, and his still-numb arm was wrapped up in a cast. He was in the hospital wing, tucked into a little twin bed with a stack of pillows propping up his head.

            Madam Pomfrey rushed over to him when she noticed he was awake. “Oh, finally,” she muttered, adjusting his pillows and shining her wand light in his eyes until they burned. “You broke about twenty different bones, Mr. Pettigrew, most of them in your right arm. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here tonight while they heal. Do you still feel pain?” Peter nodded; it was dull, but still strong enough to bother him.

            “Sit tight for a minute,” Pomfrey directed. “I’ll just whip up some more potion for you.” And she left his side and disappeared into another room, leaving Peter alone in the empty hospital wing.

            It wasn’t completely empty, though; he could make out the shadow of another figure behind a curtain in the back corner of the room. He wondered who it could be, and what could’ve happened to them. Peter, always curious, wanted to see for himself, but he forced himself to stay in bed as Madam Pomfrey had told him to. Until he heard moaning, that is.

            He glanced around for Pomfrey, but she had shut herself in the other room to make his potion. Carefully he lowered himself off the bed and onto aching feet, and hobbled over to the other end of the wing. The moaning grew louder as he approached; whoever it was had just woken up, and they were in a whole lot of pain.

            Peter pulled back the curtain with his good arm, and immediately almost fell back with shock. Lying in the bed before him, heavily bandaged and deathly pale, was his roommate Remus Lupin.

            “Oh, my God,” Peter squeaked. “Remus?”

            Remus’s eyes fluttered open. It took a minute for them to focus on Peter, and another for them to narrow with recognition. “Peter,” he croaked. “What’re you doing here?”

            “I—I fell off my broom,” Peter stuttered. “I thought you went home to visit your mum, Remus.”

            “Oh…I was going to,” said Remus, his voice still very weak. “But I…I hurt myself before I could leave.”

            “You look terrible, Re,” Peter said; he looked like he was on the verge of death, actually. “What _happened_ to you?”

            Remus swallowed. “Please don’t tell James and Sirius,” he begged. “I don’t…I don’t want them to worry.”

            “Yes, but what—?”

            The curtain flew back, and Madam Pomfrey jumped between Remus and Peter, glowering down at the latter. “This is a _privacy curtain_ ,” she snapped. “Get back in your bed, or I’ll have to chain you to the sides of it.”

            “Sorry, Madam Pomfrey,” he yelped, and quickly added, “Sorry, Remus.” He limped back over towards his bed, Pomfrey eyeing him suspiciously.

            Peter’s head swirled with questions as he lay back down. Remus hadn’t just looked like he’d hurt himself—he’d looked like he was gravely ill. What had happened to him, and why did he not want anyone to know about it?


	8. Christmas with the Potters

            “You’re sure they’re okay with this?” Sirius asked anxiously, looking out the window as the Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop.

            “Positive, Sirius,” James said beside him. “I wrote to them about it weeks ago. There’s no way I was letting you spend Christmas all alone in an empty castle.”

            “Or with a family that doesn’t want you,” Remus added. “You can always come stay at my place, too.”

            “Or mine,” Peter added quickly.

            Sirius gave the three of them a grateful look. They’d never pressed him for the gory details about his home life, but they understood that Sirius had his reasons for not wanting to go home. He’d never expected this, though, James offering to let him spend Christmas with his own family. Sirius would have been fine staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, but James had pestered him about it until he’d agreed. And now here he was, back at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, ready to go home with a witch and wizard he’d never met before.

            “Let’s go,” James said, pulling down his trunk and grabbing his owl’s cage. “Before the platform gets too crowded.”

            The boys pushed and shoved their way out of the train and onto the platform, the biting winter air turning their breaths into clouds. Peter and Remus said goodbye and headed off to find their own families; James took Sirius by the arm and led him in the opposite direction, right up to a tall, smiling couple.

            They were older than Sirius would have expected, with lined faces and gray hair; they could almost be James’s grandparents. But Sirius could see the resemblance easily—James had his father’s hazel eyes and his mother’s wide white smile.

            Mrs. Potter knelt down and gave James a huge, tight hug, kissing his cheeks and caressing his head. “I missed you so much,” she said, giving him another kiss. And then it was James’s father’s turn; his hug was just as big and long as his wife’s.

            Sirius stood awkwardly off to the side, feeling guilty for intruding on the Potters’ reunion while at the same time feeling a pang of jealousy for how loved James clearly was. He imagined how his parents would have greeted him at the platform—even without taking the Gryffindor fiasco into account, he’d be lucky to get a simple pat on the back from them.

            When James finally broke away from his parents, he turned immediately to Sirius. “Mum, Dad,” he said, “this is Sirius Black.” When Sirius hesitated, he grabbed his arm again and tugged him forward towards his parents.

            “Hello, Sirius,” said Mrs. Potter. And then, to his great surprise, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Sirius went stiff at first, then relaxed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a hug, a real hug.

            “Thank you for letting me stay with you for the holidays,” Sirius said sincerely. He couldn’t imagine many other parents taking in a loner boy wizard they didn’t know for Christmas.

            “Of course, dear,” said Mrs. Potter with a smile.

            “Your friend is quite polite, James,” Mr. Potter observed. “Hopefully his good influence has rubbed off on you a bit, eh?” James gave Sirius a look that said _Yeah, right_.

            “Well, let’s get off of this platform,” Mrs. Potter said as she was pushed backwards by a passerby. “We can catch up once we get home.”

            Sirius and the Potters used Floo powder to get back to the Potter residence, located in a small wizarding village near the coast of Lincolnshire called Lindsey Wolds. The house they were transported into was big and wide and open, with slanted sunlight streaming in through high windows.

            “Let me give you a tour,” James offered, gesturing for Sirius to follow him upstairs. The house was three stories tall, with beautiful paintings hanging from every wall and all the wood shining with fresh polish. But it wasn’t stuffy and perfectly-preserved like Sirius’s home of 12 Grimmauld Place—there were signs of life, too, in the form of childhood doodles etched into the windowsills and bowls of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans placed throughout. In the Potters’ large backyard, there was a makeshift Quidditch pitch—no wonder James was so good on a broom.

            If Sirius had been jealous of James before, now he was even more so. Clearly James had grown up as well-off as he had, but without all the pure-blood supremacy and distant, disapproving family members he’d had to deal with. There was only one thing missing.

            “Where’s your house-elf?” Sirius wondered.

            James blinked. “Oh, we don’t have one. My parents aren’t a fan of them, and the whole enslavement thing.”

            _Oh._ Sirius had assumed all pure-blood wizarding families had house-elves, especially those as well off as James’s. He thought of his own family’s elf, the sniveling, brainwashed mess that was Kreacher—he supposed he wasn’t a fan of elves, either.

            “James!” called James’s father from downstairs. “Your mum whipped you boys up some leftovers in case you’re hungry!”

            “Starving, thanks,” James yelled back. He nodded to Sirius. “Come on. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

            Sirius hesitated for a minute. “I don’t want to be taking your family’s food, mate.”

            James rolled his eyes. “What were you expecting to do for food while you were here, hunt it down yourself? Eat Lexie’s dead mice? Of course you’re taking our food; don’t be an idiot. Let’s go.”

            Sirius followed James back downstairs and into the Potters’ kitchen, where a table had already been set for the two of them. The boys took their seats next to each other, and Mrs. Potter came in with bread and warm plates of beans and roast chicken. “If you boys would like anything else, just tell me,” she said.

            Even though it had been reheated, the food was delicious, worthy of a Hogwarts feast. Kreacher cooked all the meals for the Black house, but they were never as good as Mrs. Potter’s was.

            “So, James,” said Mr. Potter, sitting down to read the _Daily Prophet_ across the table from the boys. “I noticed my Invisibility Cloak has gone missing from my office. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

            Sirius tensed, expecting the conversation to quickly go south, but James blinked up at his father with innocent doe eyes. “That’s horrible,” he said. “Who would steal such a thing?”

            Mr. Potter laughed. “Well, I suppose it is your birthright,” he said. “I sure found plenty of uses for that cloak while I was in school. As long as you don’t get into _too_ much trouble.”

            “He already has,” called Mrs. Potter from her place at the sink, cleaning dirty dishes with a few flicks of her wand. “Remember that letter we got from Minerva McGonagall about James hexing that Slytherin boy?”

            “Snivellus deserved it,” James protested, though he didn’t sound all that defensive. “Sirius was in on it, too.”

            Mr. Potter turned to Sirius with a grin. “I take back the _good influence_ comment, then.” Sirius blushed. “Although I have to say, I’m impressed you boys have already learned enough magic to be hexing anyone.”

            “Oh, we’re two of the best in our year,” said James airily. “In most classes, anyway. We’d probably do a bit better in History of Magic if we managed to stay awake for more than ten minutes.”

            “Ah, History of Magic,” Mr. Potter mused, nodding sympathetically. “Is it still taught by Professor Binns?”

            “Unfortunately,” muttered James. “He’s not even alive anymore. You’d think ghosts would have something better to do than bore students with stories of vampire wars.”

            “Well, _I_ liked History of Magic,” claimed Mrs. Potter. “Professor Binns was still alive when I took it, though.”

            “Wow,” James said. “How old _are_ you, Mum?”

            Mrs. Potter whisked by and gave her son a slap on the cheek—it was a teasing slap, though, not like the ones doled out by Walburga Black. “You’re getting coal in your stocking for that,” she said.

            “Stocking?” Sirius asked.

            “Yeah, like the ones you put Christmas presents in,” James explained. “I know it’s a Muggle thing, but it’s still fun.”

            Sirius’s family didn’t really do Christmas presents, or Christmas at all, really—the whole holiday was too Muggle-y for them. But Sirius didn’t want James to know that, so he nodded as if he knew exactly what he was talking about.

            “Don’t be surprised if yours is filled with Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion,” James warned him. “My father invented the stuff, and he thinks it’s the best thing in the world.”

            “Your friend doesn’t need Sleekeazy’s,” said Mr. Potter. “His hair isn’t nearly as unruly as a Potter’s.”

            Sirius had frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth. “You’re giving me a stocking?” he asked. “For presents?”

            “Already bought one,” Mr. Potter said, pointing to the fireplace they had clambered out of. Sure enough, there were four oversized socks hanging from its mantel, and Sirius could make out his name sewn into the blue one.

            “You can’t have Christmas with no presents, mate,” James said. “And we didn’t think your parents would be sending any over to us.”

            “Probably not,” Sirius replied. He felt a lump forming in his throat, one he couldn’t swallow down. The Potters were getting him Christmas presents, and he barely even knew them. Did normal parents do that kind of thing for people like him? Sirius had no idea—he supposed he’d never been around any _normal parents_ until today.

            “Th—thank you,” he stammered, not knowing what else to say. James gave him a small smile, his eyes saying that he understood what Sirius meant, at least a little.

            Sirius felt very, very glad he’d decided to sit next to James that first day on the Hogwarts Express.


	9. Christmas with the Lupins

            “One last present for you, Remus,” said Hope Lupin, handing her son a little blue box from under the Christmas tree. Attached to its bow was a tag that read _Llywelyn’s_ , a local wizarding shop; Remus glanced up at his mother with surprise.

            Hope smiled, her cheeks going a little red. “I don’t know much about gifts from the wizarding world,” she confessed. “But I thought you would like this.”

            Remus opened the box to find a little black sphere inside of it. He pulled it out, and it slipped up through his fingers to hover about a foot off the ground. The lights throughout the house seemed to dim, and the sphere lit up, projecting a starry night sky onto the ceiling and the walls around them.

            “Whoa,” Remus breathed, gawking upwards. Every time his eyes fixed on a particular group of stars, lines spun out like a spider’s web to connect them into constellations. Remus gave the sphere a spin, watching the stars rotate as well until a whole new sky of them was displayed, stars seen on the other side of the world. And nowhere in the sky was there a moon to eclipse the starlight; Remus wondered if his mother had checked before buying it.

            “I love it, Mum,” he said truthfully. “Thank you.”

            “That might even help you study for Astronomy,” said his father Lyall. Remus smiled, placing the orb back in its box; it flickered off, and the surrounding light grew brighter again.

            “I’m surprised wizards take classes in astronomy,” his mother murmured. “Muggles have astronomy, too, but I’m sure it’s different.”

            “I love it,” Remus said. “Our classes are held at midnight, and Professor Sinistra is great.” He grinned. “My friend Sirius once got two weeks of detention from her, though, for ‘accidentally’ setting the star charts we were supposed to fill out for homework on fire.”

            “You talk about your friends a lot,” Lyall observed; Remus noticed a furrow forming on his brow. Lyall and Hope exchanged what looked like a worried glance.

            “Should I not?” Remus asked, confused. “I thought you wanted me to make friends at school.”

            “Of course we do, honey,” his mother assured him quickly. “It’s great that you’ve gotten along so well with your classmates. It’s just….” She trailed off, looking to Lyall to finish her thought.

            Lyall took a breath, hesitating. “Look, Re,” he said. “Your mum and I…we just wanted to make sure you understand that you can’t get _too_ close to anyone, what with your condition and all.” He paused. “As a family, we simply move away every time our neighbors grow suspicious, but, well, you won’t be able to do that at Hogwarts. You understand?”

            Remus nodded. The great joy he’d felt minutes before while unwrapping Christmas presents was all but gone now, replaced by the cold sting of reality. “I know what would happen if they figure out I’m a werewolf,” he said. “Don’t worry; I’m being careful. I’ve been getting dressed behind my bed curtains, and telling them that I’m visiting my sick mum on full moons.”

            Remus’s parents looked at each other again. “That’s good, honey,” said his mother, “but not all we’re worried about.” She put a hand on Remus’s shoulder and squeezed it. “When you get really close with someone, you know…you feel like you can trust them. You start telling each other secrets, maybe, things you don’t want other people finding out about.”

            “Oh.” Now Remus understood. “You think I’m just going to _tell_ them I’m a werewolf.” He shook his head. “Of course not, Mum, don’t worry. I know I can’t.”

            Some of the tension left Hope’s shoulders at that. “Good, Re. I know you’ll be smart; you always are. Your dad and I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

            “I’m not,” Remus insisted. “My friends are great, but I know they’d want nothing to do with me if they knew what I was.” His mother, upset by the tone of defeat in his voice, wrapped Remus up in a tender hug.

            “I’m sorry it has to be like this,” she murmured in his ear. “You deserve to have people who love you just the way you are.”

            “Well, that’s what you and Dad are for,” said Remus with a sad smile, wiggling out of the hug. Hope wiped a tear from her cheek, leaning back into Lyall’s comforting arms.

            Remus took a bite of one of his new chocolate bars, but the taste turned sour in his mouth. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he’d thought about what would happen if his roommates knew about his lycanthropy, that he’d wondered if them finding out would really be so bad. Sirius had grown up in a house filled with prejudice, after all, and he didn’t seem to mind that his best friends were now a half-blood, a blood traitor and a son of two Muggle-borns.

            But that was different, he knew. Muggle-borns and blood traitors weren’t dangerous, but werewolves certainly were—they were monsters. It wasn’t just prejudice that made wizards hate werewolves, it was fear. Fear they had very good reason for.

            _But how can they really be my friends_ , Remus wondered, _if they don’t even know me?_ They were friends with a fake Remus, one who didn’t turn into a murderous beast once a month. The _real_ Remus they would hate, and run away from as fast as they could. It was not a pleasant thing to think about.

But Remus was a werewolf, only disguised as something else. And so he knew, with a sinking feeling in his chest, that the half-real friendship he had right now with James and Sirius and Peter was the best he was ever going to get.


	10. Operation Kitchen Raid

            Soon after the end of the Christmas holidays was Hogwarts’ most anticipated Quidditch match of the year: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The Quidditch stands were decorated with green and silver and gold and scarlet, a light dusting of snow spread over everything.

            At the very top of one of the gold-and-scarlet stands stood James and his roommates, screaming for their team and waving lion flags passionately. Remus had the Gryffindor colors streaked under his eyes like war paint, and Peter was leaning so far out of the stand that James was afraid he’d fall over; even Sirius, who usually didn’t care much for Quidditch, had gone all-out for the match, wearing mittens he’d charmed to roar every time he opened his hands and yelling at the referee whenever he made a call that favored Slytherin. It wasn’t about the game for him, James thought; he just didn’t want Gryffindor losing to Slytherin in anything.

            “And a nice save from Longbottom for Gryffindor!” called the game’s commentator, Benjy Fenwick. The Gryffindor students erupted into cheers as the Gryffindor Keeper Frank Longbottom kicked the Quaffle upside-down away from the goalposts. The Chaser Alice Wren caught the ball and sped it across the pitch, dodging Bludgers and ducking out of the way of the Slytherins. She passed it to her fellow Chaser Marcus, who threw it through the Slytherin’s middle hoop to score ten more points for Gryffindor. The Gryffindors yelled out cheers once again, Sirius’s mittens roaring in James’s ears.

            “Marcus and Jasmine are both seventh years,” James said to his friends once the noise had quieted back down. “That means there’ll be two open spots next year for Chasers.”

            “And you’re going to try out, I’m assuming,” Remus said.

            James nodded. “I’ve got a brand-new Comet 230 broom back at home; I would’ve brought it this year if the school let first years bring broomsticks.” He sighed. “But I doubt they’d have let a first year on the team anyway. Next year, though….” He raised his eyebrows at Remus. “You should try out with me, Re. You’re pretty good on a broom, the way you dodged all those stones in our last flying lesson. You did better than me, even.”

            But Remus shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so.” He sounded strangely regretful about it; but James shrugged it off. The less competition he had to deal with, the better.

            “Oh, and here’s the Golden Snitch!” yelled Fenwick. “King and Rosier are both going for it—what a dive—King right on its tail—and he’s got it! GRYFFINDOR WINS!”

            The Gryffindors’ cheer at that was loud enough to cause an earthquake. “Yes!” James screamed, punching the air. “YES! GO GRYFFINDOR!”

            The Gryffindor Seeker, Ramsey King, flew a triumphant loop around the snowy pitch, holding the captured Snitch in his raised fist. He was amazing—though he was only a fourth year, James was certain he’d be Quidditch Captain next year. And James would be on his team. He’d make sure of it.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

            That night, the Gryffindor common room was the loudest and craziest James had ever seen it. There was music blasting, lions roaring, and enchanted streamers floating all around. Gideon Prewett and the other prefects tried their best to get the Gryffindors to quiet down and stop making such a mess, but eventually they gave up and joined in the celebration, too.

            James leaped onto Sirius’s back, laughing as the other boy took him around the room in circles. Lily and her friend Mary were working on charming the flames in the fireplace into the shape of a lion, a feat even James had to admit was impressive for a couple of first years. Sirius hopped up onto one of the sofas, jumping up and down while James waved his arms like a rabid bird.

            Remus, looking the happiest and most energetic he’d been since James met him, tumbled onto the sofa beside them, his light hair spread across the cushions and his stomach exposed underneath his sweater. James noticed a deep, long scar slicing across it.

            And then Peter threw himself onto Remus, causing the other boy to go _“oof”_. James finally climbed off Sirius’s back and helped Remus wrestle Peter off of him, all three of them laughing.

            “Oi, you boys,” said a voice above them. James looked up to find Gavin Macmillan, one of the Gryffindor team’s Beaters. He was still wearing his Quidditch robes, dirty with mud and snow and caked in sweat, just like the rest of his teammates were.

            James stood up quickly, his heart pounding. The Quidditch players were the only Gryffindors he ever got nervous around, and today was definitely not an exception. “Is there something we can help you with?” he asked.

            Gavin grinned. “You’re the first years who snuck into Slughorn’s office and let all the frogs loose, right?”

            “Guilty,” said James, grinning back.

            “For first years, you’re pretty good at creeping around without getting caught.” _Well, the Invisibility Cloak sure helps_ , James thought, but he didn’t say it. The less people that knew about his cloak, the better.

            “I think I might have a mission for you,” Gavin said. “Usually at these parties, we have some people go down into the kitchens and bring up some food, but our last guys graduated last year. You think you could take their place? It’s really easy; the elves that work down there will just give you the food you want, no questions asked. And the prefects don’t ever make a fuss about it.”

            “I’m in,” James said immediately. He could earn some brownie points from the Quidditch team before he even tried out for it.

            “Me too,” Sirius added; Peter nodded enthusiastically.

            “Fine,” Remus sighed, though James could see a spark of mischief blooming in his eyes.

            “Brilliant.” Gavin pulled out a flattened bag and threw it onto the couch beside them. “It’s enchanted to hold as much food as you need. Get whatever you want, but make sure there’s some treacle tart in there. It’s Ramsey’s favorite.”

            “How do we get into the kitchens?” Remus asked, picking up the bag.

            “Do you know how to get down into the basement where Hufflepuff’s common room is?” All four boys nodded. “There’s a painting there of a bowl of fruit. Tickle the pear, and you’re in.”

            “ _Tickle the pear_?” Sirius repeated. “This school is so weird.”

            “We won’t let you down,” James promised Gavin.

            “Thanks, you lot,” Gavin said, giving James a little punch on the shoulder before vanishing back into the crowd.

            James rubbed his hands together. “All right, Operation Kitchen Raid is a go. Can you fetch my cloak, Sirius?”

            As soon as Sirius was back, the four boys left the common room and wrapped the cloak around themselves, squeezing tightly together so they all could fit. They’d only all been under the cloak a few times before; usually it was just James and Sirius sneaking out to cause mischief, with Remus or Peter occasionally tagging along, but rarely did all four of them go together.

            “Okay,” James whispered. “To the basements.”

            They almost toppled over the railings several times, and each of the boys had his feet stepped on at least twice. “Maybe we shouldn’t all have come,” muttered Remus in the back.

            “Oh, rubbish,” said Sirius. “It’s an adventure, Re— _ow_ , Peter, watch it!”

            “Sorry!”

            They crept through a side door in the castle’s entrance hall and down the stairs into brightly-lit basement that couldn’t have looked more Hufflepuff if it tried. There were pictures of food and farmland everywhere—eventually James located one of a bowl of fruit, and reached a hand out from under the cloak to tickle the pear.

            The pear jumped at his touch, giggling softly. And then it began to shift position, its bottom pushing out through the painting until it became a green doorknob.

            “That’s so cool,” breathed Peter.

            “I don’t think we need this anymore,” Sirius said, pulling the cloak off the four of them and stashing it away. “Lead on, James Potter.”

            James twisted the pear-doorknob, and the whole painting swung open to reveal a large hole through which the boys could climb. They did, and dropped down into the giant kitchen on the other side, gaping around.

            It looked just like the Great Hall above them, with five long tables for the Houses and professors and a ceiling that stretched high over their heads. But instead of floating candles and starry skies, there were pots and pans and a roaring fire. And instead of students, there were hundreds of house-elves bustling about, cooking and cleaning and tending to the fire.

            As soon as the first elves noticed the Gryffindor boys, they ran over with delighted gasps; a few rushed into side rooms and emerged carrying platters of fruits and sweets. “Students!” squeaked the first elf to reach them. “Do you want something, sirs?”

            James wasn’t sure he’d ever been called a _sir_ before. Then again, he didn’t have much experience around house-elves.

            Peter grabbed a piece of cake off of one of the platters and stuffed it in his mouth. “Delicious,” he mumbled. The house-elves all squealed with pleasure.

            “We’ll take all the cakes you’ve got,” said James. “And anything else you want to throw in would be great, too. Some real food, maybe?”

            “And treacle tart,” Remus added.

            “And treacle tart.”

            “Of course, sirs,” said one of the elves. “We’ll get it ready for you right away!” And the elves jumped back to work, cooking chickens and preparing treacle tarts.

            “You know, I don’t even feel like this is stealing,” Remus muttered in James’s ear. “It’s like they _want_ us to take their food.”

            “We’re definitely coming back here,” said Sirius.

            James nodded. “Agreed.”


	11. Remus and Lily

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the kudos, views and comments! I love knowing that there are people who enjoy reading my work as much as I enjoy writing it :) I know I've been going through the Marauders' first year pretty quickly, but that's only because their story gets so much more interesting as they get older! Stay tuned!

           As the school year crept closer and closer to its end, classes grew harder and homework assignments grew longer, with professors trying to cram every last drop of knowledge into their students’ heads. By mid-May, the students were so stressed and overwhelmed that all anyone could think about was cramming for finals (other than James and Sirius, of course, who insisted they just didn’t _need_ to study). 

            “By the start of next class, I want five pages from each of you on the proper way to perform the Disarming Charm,” said Professor Byrne at the end of one of their last Defense Against the Dark Arts classes of the year. He held up a hand to quiet the inevitable groans. “You’ll be expected to perform a proper _Expelliarmus_ spell on your final exam, so you’ll need to study the spell carefully. It’s for your own benefit.” As he looked around the class, his eyes jumped right over Remus, as they always did.

Remus swallowed. This was the class he was most determined to do well in, if only to prove to Professor Byrne that he did belong at Hogwarts. He’d show him how much he’d been practicing everything he learned in class, how seriously he took defending himself and others from Dark magic—and Dark creatures.

            So as the rest of the class filed out, Remus stayed behind and went up to the professor’s desk. Byrne narrowed his eyes at him as he approached. “How can I help you, Mr. Lupin?”

            “I was wondering if there was anything else I should be studying, Professor,” he said meekly. “For the exam. I’ve been reading over the textbook, of course, but I could also pick up some books from the library.”

            “Hm.” Byrne thought for a moment and he scribbled something down on a piece of parchment. “Well, I’ve always thought your textbook was somewhat lacking in information about basic counter-jinxes. I’d recommend _A Beginner’s Guide to Jinx Protection_. Maybe _Standard Protective Enchantments_ , too.”

“Perfect. Thank you, sir.” Professor Byrne didn’t look up at him, concentrating deliberately on his parchment. So Remus turned to leave, reciting the book titles in his head to make sure he didn’t forget.

The library was more crowded than it had ever been, filled with students poring over books and notes and tearing out their hair in frustration. Remus pushed his way through the shelves until he found the books he was looking for, then tried to find a place to sit and read them. Usually Remus could get a table all to himself, but today there were none empty. But towards the back there was a small table only occupied by a single girl—Lily Evans.

Taking a breath, Remus forced himself over to her. “Hey, Lily,” he said quietly; it was a few seconds before Lily looked up at him from her reading, and her green eyes instantly went cold. “Can I sit here?”

“Sure,” Lily said curtly, returning to her book. “What do I care?”

            Remus took the seat across from her and began flipping through _A Beginner’s Guide to Jinx Protection_. But he found it difficult to concentrate—he was keenly aware of Lily’s eyes on him, examining him warily.

            Finally he glanced up and tried for a smile. “What are you studying?” he asked her.

            Quickly she turned away from him. “Charms.”

            “Oh.” Remus blinked. “Well, you shouldn’t have to study Charms too much. You’re the best in our year at it, I think.”

            Lily snorted. “Better than James and Sirius?”

            “Oh, definitely,” he assured her. “Professor Flitwick thinks so, and that Revealing Charm you cast the other day was amazing.”

            “Thank you.” Lily’s cheeks had gone a little pink, and she turned back to look Remus in the eye. “You’re much nicer than your friends, you know.”

            “I know,” Remus said with a wry smile.

            “Well, why do you hang out with them, then?” Lily asked.

            Remus’s mind drifted back to their many late-night adventures, the unforgettable thrill he would feel creeping around whenever he could convince his rational mind to let him. He thought of the long dormitory conversations and games of Exploding Snap, sometimes stretching almost until dawn. “They’re my roommates,” he said simply.  

            “That doesn’t mean you have to be best friends.”

            “I guess not,” Remus replied. “But isn’t Mary your best friend? She’s your roommate.”

            “But _she’s_ actually nice,” Lily countered. “And she’s not my _best_ friend; Severus is.” Her eyes had turned cold again as she glared accusingly at Remus. “Who your friends can’t ever seem to leave alone.”

            Remus hesitated. He wanted to defend his friends, tell Lily that Severus started their fights at least half the time. He wanted to explain how Severus was a Slytherin, and how Sirius’s awful Slytherin family had soured him against the whole house. But he didn’t; he knew it would only lead to more trouble. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about my friends,” he suggested instead. “I came here to get away from those loudmouths.”

            Lily’s lips twitched. “Fine,” she agreed. “But only if you help me with my _Expelliarmus_.”

            “Deal.”

            By the end of their study session, Lily and Remus were sitting side-by-side, paging through books together and laughing at each other’s jokes. Remus liked her, how smart and fierce and determined she was; but he knew he couldn’t tell his friends that, considering she self-identified as the best friend of their least favorite Slytherin. Still, when it was time for dinner and the two of them finally packed up their things to leave, Remus knew it wouldn’t be the last time they were study partners.


	12. One More Day at Hogwarts

            Final exams went off without a hitch. Sirius may have been accused of pruning his aconite plant too much, and his completed Pepperup Potion may have smelled like honeysuckle instead of bell peppers, but overall he was sure he’d done well. His friends had, too—everything had gone perfectly for James, of course, and even Peter had managed to cast a flawless _Expelliarmus_ for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Remus fretted over every mistake he possibly could have made, but Sirius knew he’d done better than he would admit; Remus always did.

            They had one day left at Hogwarts after exams, which most of the school decided to spend swimming in the Great Lake. The water was as cold as always, but the temperature of the air had gone up considerably, and some of the older students had cast a charm over the lake to make it feel warmer than it actually was.

            James, Sirius and Peter stripped down to their swim trunks and dived in, feeling the water cleanse their hot, sweaty bodies. Sirius stayed underwater for a full minute before emerging, sweeping back his long black hair. James jumped on top of him, trying to drag him back under again, but Sirius shook him off and sent a jet of water into his laughing face.

            “I don’t ever want to leave here,” Sirius sighed, turning to float on his back and feel the sun hot against his face.

            “Me neither,” agreed Peter. “I do miss my parents, though.”

            Sirius snorted. He certainly didn’t. A feeling of dread welled up in him as he realized he’d have to see them again tomorrow, for the first time since he came to Hogwarts. He shook it off quickly, flipping around and diving down to the depths of the lake, opening his eyes into a world of clear water and schools of rainbow-colored fish. He had one more day at Hogwarts; he sure as hell was going to make the most of it.

            “Oi, Remus!” James was yelling when Sirius surfaced again. “Come join us!” Remus was still sitting at the edge of the lake, wearing all his robes with only his bare feet dangling in the water.

            Remus smiled sadly. “No thanks,” he said. “I’ll just wait here.” But there was regret in his voice, clear enough for even Sirius to notice it. He wanted to join them, but for some reason he felt like he couldn’t. _Why?_

“I don’t get Remus,” Sirius said to James as they swam away from the shore. “He always seems like he’s hiding something. It’s so mysterious.”

            “I know,” James agreed. “I mean, who could be more trustworthy than us?” Sirius laughed.

            “That’s a job for next year,” James decided, lifting his chin. “We’ll figure out what’s going on with Remus if it’s the last thing we do.”

            “That sounds very dramatic,” Sirius said, “but okay.”

            “I live for being dramatic, Sirius.”

            That night, there was a huge, delicious Leaving Feast in the Great Hall, at which it was announced that Ravenclaw had won the House Cup. “I don’t think Gryffindor’s ever going to win that thing while we’re at school,” James told Sirius once the applause had died down.

            “I’d consider it a dishonor if they did,” he replied. Remus rolled his eyes at them.

            The boys then returned to their room at the top of Gryffindor Tower for the last time to finish packing up their things. It was only then that the full reality of their leaving hit Sirius: he would not be seeing any of his friends for two-and-a-half months. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes at the realization; quickly he wiped them away, embarrassed.

            “I’ll miss you guys,” Peter sniffed; he was doing a much worse job of hiding his emotions.

            “Me too,” agreed Remus. “You guys are all crazy, but you were pretty great roommates.”

            “I’ll miss our room, too,” James sighed, glancing around. “Look, Sirius, there’s still that chink in the window from when I threw your wand at it.”

            “Oh, yeah.” Sirius nodded fondly. “After I hid all those mice under your bedsheets.”

            “I liked having the top room in the tower,” Remus added. “It’s so peaceful all the way up here.”

            That’s when Sirius had his final brilliant idea of the year. “Well, what if we don’t have to give it up?” The other boys turned to him, their eyes instantly lighting up.

            The next morning, when the boys said goodbye to their dorm for the last time, the plaque that once had read _FIRST YEARS_ was now engraved with their names: _SIRIUS BLACK, JAMES POTTER, REMUS LUPIN, AND PETER PETTIGREW. ALL OTHERS ENTER AT THEIR OWN PERIL._

“That’ll keep out the new firsties,” James beamed, giving Sirius one last high-five. “This room is ours now, forever.”  


	13. Home Sweet Home

             Sirius’s parents weren’t there to meet him when he stepped down onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Instead, his favorite uncle Alphie was waiting for him in his big gray overcoat, a friendly smile on his face. It was certainly a welcome surprise.

            “Thank Merlin, Uncle Alphie!” Sirius said, running straight to him. The man linked his arm around Sirius’s, leading him over to a corner of the platform.

            “Your parents sent me here to fetch you,” he explained. “They’re in the middle of planning a dinner party back home to celebrate all of you returning students.” Sirius doubted his return would be very celebrated, but he nodded his understanding anyway.

            “Do you mind if we Apparate?” Alphie asked. “I’m sure you’re old enough to stomach it by now.”

            “Yes,” said Sirius eagerly; he’d never Apparated anywhere before. Alphie grabbed his arm tightly, and suddenly Sirius’s feet were swept out from under him and the world went dark around them.

            Sirius squeezed shut his eyes, feeling pressure against him from all directions and holding onto his uncle like his life depended on it, which in the moment it very well could have. And then he was falling face-forward into the grass below him, inhaling a large mouthful of dirt.

            Alphie helped him to his feet, laughing a little as Sirius tried to get his bearings. “You all right?” he asked. Sirius nodded, though really he felt like he was about to throw up all his insides. He wanted to impress his uncle, if nothing else.

            The two of them were standing on the lawn leading up to 12 Grimmauld Place, a gleaming town house wedged between two neighboring Muggle homes (why a Muggle-hating family like the Blacks chose to willingly live amongst Muggles, Sirius had no idea). It looked cramped and squished, but Sirius knew the place was much bigger upon entrance. It was the house he’d lived his whole life in, and one he couldn’t wait to leave for good.

            His uncle placed a comforting hand against the small of his back and gently led Sirius up to the front doorstep. He pulled back the serpent-shaped door knocker, and about five seconds later the door opened to reveal Sirius’s mother, her curly black hair reaching down to her waist and her lips twisted into a permanent snarl that only grew when she saw her eldest son.

            “Alphard,” she said coolly, stepping aside to let them in. “Sirius.”

            “Hi, Mum,” he replied, his voice just as cold as hers. “Can’t say it’s good to be home.”

            “You’re lucky we even let you come home,” growled a deep voice from the shadows further back: Sirius’s father Orion. “Your filthy influence might start to rub off on your brother.”

            “Oh, no need to worry about that,” said Sirius bitterly. “You brainwashed Regulus out of any sense of self-respect years ago.”

            His mother slapped him for that comment, his cheek stinging so badly it nearly brought him to tears, but Sirius refused to let himself cry in front of his parents; it only encouraged them.

            “Go up to your room,” his mother ordered, “and get dressed for dinner.”

            Sirius skulked up the stairs to his room, flopping tiredly onto his long-unused bed. It was already after eight, and Sirius had eaten dinner on the train; a big Black family reunion was not at all what he was in the mood for. But he knew he had to show up, or else his mother would come and drag him down anyway.

            The whole summer was going to be like this, full of tedious family commitments and his screaming mother; and now that he was officially the Gryffindor black sheep of the family, things were only going to be worse for him than before. At least he had his friends’ letters to look forward to; before they left school, Sirius had made them all promise to write to each other at least once a week. Remus had told him he’d even send some chocolate if he asked. Sirius would definitely be asking.

            “Hey, Sirius?” Sirius turned to find his brother, Regulus, standing in the doorway. He was taller than he’d been the last time Sirius was home, and he’d grown out his hair a bit. Sirius felt a small squeeze of regret that he hadn’t been home to see his brother. Reggie was a pain, of course, but it wasn’t his fault he’d been raised by their awful prats of parents. He’d be going to Hogwarts next year, too; maybe Sirius could work on him over the summer and convert him into something other than a ready-made Slytherin. He doubted that would happen, though—Reggie was too far in already.

            “You need to get dressed for dinner, Sirius,” Reggie said. “The others are already here.”

            Sirius groaned. “What others?” he asked, though he could already predict his brother’s answer.

            “The Malfoys and Crabbes,” he said, “and Uncle Cygnus and Alphard. Bellatrix and Narcissa, too, I think.”

            “Not Andromeda?” Sirius was disappointed, but that was to be expected—last he’d heard, his cousin Andy had run off with a Muggle-born Hufflepuff boy.

            Regulus shook his head quickly. “She got married to that Mudblood,” he spat. “Sent Mum and Dad a wedding invitation, too.”

            Sirius grinned. “What’d they do with it?” he wondered.

            “Dad tore it up and threw it in the fire.”

            “I thought they’d be a little more creative than that,” Sirius sighed. Reggie didn’t reply.

            And then the house-elf Kreacher shuffled by, stopping when he noticed the two boys talking in Sirius’s room. “Masters Regulus and Sirius should already be downstairs,” he simpered. “Mistress Black will be waiting for them.”

            “Oh, piss off, Kreacher,” Sirius growled, throwing one of his shoes at him. Kreacher jumped out of the way and scampered down the stairs.

            Regulus turned on his brother angrily. “Don’t treat Kreacher like that!”

            “He’s a demented git,” Sirius snapped; “I’ll treat him however I want to. He rats me out to Mum every time I put a toe out of line.”

            “He’s an elf; that’s what he’s been trained to do!” Regulus protested. “And he’s right, anyway. Narcissa and Lucius got back from Hogwarts the same time as you did, and they’re already downstairs. And _you’re_ still wearing Muggle clothes.” He whirled around and headed after the elf, with one last angry glare in Sirius’s direction.

            Sirius rolled his eyes, even less excited for the dinner party than he had been before. But there was no avoiding it, so he changed out of his “Muggle clothes” and into his fancy Black family robes, embellished with a little snake about the family crest.

            But Sirius was no snake. So when he finally headed downstairs and into the dining room, his aunts and uncles and cousins all turning to him with narrowed eyes, he made sure to remind them all of that fact: one of his scarlet-and-gold Gryffindor ties was gleaming proudly around his neck, bright against the dull sea of green and silver.


	14. Back to Hogwarts

            The morning of September first, Peter woke at sunrise and dragged his already-packed trunk down the stairs of his house and into the kitchen, where his parents sat with their noses buried in copies of the _Daily Prophet_. Neither of them looked up when Peter entered, which he was surprised by given the amount of noise he was making.

            “Is everything all right?” he wondered.

            Finally his mother put down her paper, turning to him with worry etched deep into her face. “There was an attack last night, Peter,” she explained gravely. “By…by You-Know-Who’s followers. They killed the whole Davies family—a family of Muggle-borns. Even their little children.”

            Peter fell back against his trunk. “Just because they were Muggle-borns?”

            “It looks that way,” his father said. “They’re getting bolder and bolder, those people. There are rumors they’re even starting to recruit out of Hogwarts.” Peter shivered.

            “Promise me you’ll be careful, Peter,” his mother murmured. “The Death Eaters could be anywhere now. And you…well, you know you’d be a target for them.”

            “He’ll be fine, Rona.” Thomas Pettigrew placed a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Dumbledore will make sure all the students under his care are safe, no matter what.”

            Peter swallowed. “Right.” Suddenly he was feeling quite a bit less eager to return to school.

            His father cleared his throat, taking one last sip of coffee and folding up his paper. “We should get going,” he said. “We can’t be late for the Hogwarts Express.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

            Peter’s parents said their tearful goodbyes to him on the platform, his mother giving him at least twenty kisses. “Remember to be safe,” she told him, looking her son right in the eyes. “Keep your guard up.”

            “I will, Mum,” Peter promised, giving her one last hug. If nothing else, he’d always have his friends to protect him.

            But as he carried his trunk through the corridor between the train compartments, he began to feel a sense of doubt about even that. Where were his old roommates? They’d written to him a bit over the summer, but would they still want to be friends with someone like him now that the new year was starting? They were probably better off without him, he thought darkly.

            “Oi, Peter! Over here!” James’s voice broke through his worries, and he turned to find him sitting with Sirius and Remus in the compartment to his left. Peter breathed a sigh of relief; they all looked happy to see him.

            Sirius jumped up to give him a hug, followed quickly by Remus. Sirius’s raven hair was down to his shoulders now, falling gracefully across the side of his face. Remus had grown at least an inch since Peter had seen him last—when James stood to help him stow away his trunk, he realized that he’d grown quite a bit, too, and now was holding what appeared to be a high-quality racing broom.

            “Thanks, you guys,” Peter said, taking the seat next to Sirius. “And thanks for sending the chocolate, Remus.”

            “Oh, yes,” Sirius added. “It was the only thing keeping me sane all summer.”

            Remus blushed. “You’re welcome.”

            “Hey, by the way, how’s your mum doing?” James asked him, tilting his head to the side. “I saw her with you on the platform. She seemed like she was all right.”

            “My mum?” Remus looked a bit like a deer caught in headlights at his words. “Yeah, she’s a—a bit better, I think. She’s still not well, though.”

            “What exactly is wrong with her again?” Sirius wondered; Peter heard him yelp as James kicked him in the shin.

            “It’s a Muggle disease,” Remus explained. “You wouldn’t know it. But, you know, her body can’t handle the wizarding medicines we’d use to help cure it.”

            “That’s awful,” James murmured. “I’m sorry, Re.”

            The boys didn’t speak again for a few minutes, staring out the window and waving goodbye to their families as the train lurched forward and carried them away from King’s Cross. Peter was the one who ended up breaking the silence.

            “You guys heard about the Davies murders, right?”

            “Yeah.” Remus’s face went dark. “It’s so horrible that that happened. Right in London, too.”

            “My family certainly wasn’t shedding any tears over them,” Sirius muttered. “If anything, they thought the Death Eaters had the right idea. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve all joined up by the time this year’s over.”

            Peter looked down into his lap. His wanted to tell his friends how scared he felt, how he was worried the same thing could happen to his own family. But he knew that none of them would understand. James and Sirius were pure-bloods, and though Remus’s mother was a Muggle, he could trace his magical blood back nine generations on his father’s side. The Death Eaters wouldn’t be coming after any of _them_.

            As the conversation turned to James’s broom and his Quidditch ambitions for the year, light and happy and carefree, Peter felt like he was more alone than ever.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

            Unlike last year, when they had to sail up to Hogwarts in boats across the lake, the boys took horseless carriages to the castle with the rest of the older students. The air was chilly for September; Peter pulled his robes around him as tightly as he could. His friends admired the carriages and wondered what could be moving them, but Peter’s only thought about them was that they were creepy. When they ground to a halt in front of the castle entrance, Peter was the first to jump off.

            Once inside, they took their seats at the Gryffindor table on the far left of the Great Hall and watched as the newest batch of first years marched up to the professors’ table. Sirius was sitting on his feet so he could get a better view of the Sorting. “Come on, Reggie,” he breathed. “Make me proud.”

            “Imagine how your mum would feel if _neither_ of her sons were put in Slytherin,” James said with a grin. He was clutching Sirius’s hand, nearly as invested in the Sorting as he was.

            But when Regulus Black stepped up to the hat and threw it over his head, it bellowed “SLYTHERIN!” without even a second’s thought. Sirius sighed disappointedly.

            “Well, that is what you thought would happen,” Remus pointed out.

            “I know,” Sirius said; “but I also thought the Sorting Hat would put _me_ in Slytherin, and I was wrong then.” He bit his lip. “Lucius Malfoy’s Head Boy this year—I’m sure Reggie will be following him around like a puppy in a few weeks.”

            “Can’t win ’em all, Sirius,” said James, patting his friend on the back. “One out of two’s still pretty good.”

            The feast was just as amazing as always, and the chocolate cake served after was enough to cheer even Sirius up. As he laughed with his friends and watched all the ghosts flitting by, Peter was able to push the Davies murders out of his mind. He’d really missed this place.

            After they were dismissed, Peter and his roommates ran upstairs to Gryffindor Tower, eager to learn what had become of their old room. “Gideon better not have charmed it back,” Sirius muttered as they climbed the spiraling stairs leading up to it. “It took us an hour to figure out that spell.”

            Remus was the first to reach the top. “Still ours!” he declared, turning around with a grin.

            Sure enough, the plaque they’d charmed in June was still inscribed with their names; the first years must’ve been given a different room. Peter felt relieved—some things never changed.

            Unfortunately, he had a bad feeling that there would be a whole lot changing for them this year at Hogwarts.


	15. Operation Remus Lupin

           James spent most of the first weeks of class either napping or daydreaming about Quidditch. Tryouts for the team were going to be held at the end of the month, and James was more determined than ever to make it. He used every free moment he had to zip around the school grounds on his broom, and once or twice he was even able to convince Remus to play Keeper so he could practice taking shots.

            Halfway through a lesson on Hinkypunks, Professor Byrne snatched a doodle of a broomstick James was working on right out from under his nose. “I worked hard on that, Professor!” James protested as Byrne crumpled the parchment up into a ball and tossed it aside.

            “And all your hard work will amount to nothing, Mr. Potter, if you cross a Dark creature without the proper defenses,” the professor retorted. “So I suggest you pay a little more attention to me and a little less to Quidditch tryouts.”

            James rolled his eyes at Sirius. He’d been excited when he’d learned that they’d be spending the year in Defense Against the Dark Arts learning about defeating Dark creatures, but he’d thought they’d be learning about werewolves and vampires, not Hinkypunks. Personally, James thought that if you were daft enough to follow a creepy floating lantern into a bog, you deserved to die anyway.

            James turned to Remus on his other side, about to say something smart to him, when he realized the other boy had his hands over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut. “You all right, mate?” he asked, concerned.

            Remus jumped at his voice. “F—fine,” he stammered, removing his hands from his ears. “Could you talk a bit quieter, please?”

            “I am talking quiet, Re,” James said, at this point more than a little confused. “I’m not trying to get another scolding from Byrne.”

            “Oh. Right,” Remus murmured. “Sorry.”

            At this point, Peter and Sirius were paying attention to Remus, too. He looked pale and sickly, as he often did—Remus always said it was just from stress, or worry over his sick mother, but that wasn’t what it looked like to James. He was hiding something, something big; but what could it possibly be?

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

            “I’m leaving tonight, you guys,” Remus announced as soon as the boys reached their dormitory after dinner. “My dad wrote me saying my mum’s gotten bad again. I said I’d come help him take care of her.” Remus looked even sicker and weaker now that he had earlier in the day; the climb up the stairs to their room had left him breathing way too heavily.

            “Sure, mate,” said Sirius. “You’ll miss helping with my next prank on Snivellus, though. It involves Peeves.”

            The sickly Remus still found the energy to give Sirius a wry smile as he finished packing up his bag. “I’m sure I’ll be forced to hear all about it when I get back.”

            “Well, of course.”

            Remus threw his bag onto his back and headed out, leaving the rest of the boys waiting in silence until they could no longer hear the sound of his footsteps. Then James said, “Okay, you lot. Operation Remus Lupin begins now.”

            Peter blinked at him confusedly. “What are you talking about?”

            “Figuring out what the hell is going on with him,” Sirius said, catching on. “Sometimes he’s totally fine, just a bit too worried about books and House points and keeping us from killing any Slytherins—but then he gets all weird and shifty. It’s pretty odd, don’t you think?”

            Peter looked down. “I guess so,” he muttered.

            “Very odd,” agreed James. “So, like I told you last year, Sirius, we’re going to get to the bottom of this. Remus’s tricks are no match for James Potter and Sirius Black—and Peter, of course,” he added.

            “Agreed.” Sirius pulled out a piece of parchment and bewitched it to float in the air so they all could read what he wrote on it. He took out his quill and started a list entitled _Weird Remus Things_. “So, let’s see: he goes from looking totally normal to deathly ill over and over again, but always says he’s fine; he won’t ever get dressed in front of us, and he wouldn’t go swimming in the Great Lake last year; he keeps disappearing to go see his mum—”

            “—and he always looks the sickest right after he gets back,” James added.

            Sirius’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think his parents are beating him, do you? Sometimes I look a little peaky if my mum gets carried away with me, but never as bad as Re does.”

            “Blimey,” muttered James. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like talking about his family. I just thought he was being private.” He glanced over at Peter, who had quite a peculiar expression on his face. “Okay, now Peter’s hiding something.”

            Sirius jumped on him immediately. “Spill it, Petey!” he demanded. “Do you know something about Remus that we don’t?”

            Peter’s eyes went saucer-wide. “I promised him I wouldn’t say anything,” he said quietly.

            James and Sirius exchanged a glance; James’s heartrate had doubled in speed. So there _was_ something going on. “Come on, Petey,” he said. “You know we’ll get it out of you sooner or later. Spare us the effort, won’t you?”

            Peter looked like he was going to burst. “Okay, fine,” he said, giving in quickly. “Last year, one of the times Remus was supposed to be home with his mum, I found him in the hospital wing instead. He was all wrapped up in bandages, and Madam Pomfrey had put up a privacy curtain so no one would see him.”

            “Bloody hell,” exclaimed Sirius, quickly adding that to his list. “Well, that sure changes things. Maybe he hasn’t been going home at all. He’s been getting himself beat up right here—and Pomfrey’s in on it too, somehow.”

            James gasped. “What if the Slytherins are beating him up, and he doesn’t want to tell us about it?”

            “But he’s the only one of us who’s actually nice to the Slytherins,” Sirius pointed out; “and how would he know to make his sick mum excuse every time he’s about to get a beating?”

            “Good point,” James sighed. He clenched his fists in frustration; he wasn’t used to finding problems he couldn’t solve.

            “I say the next time he says he’s going home, we sneak out behind him under the Invisibility Cloak and see where he’s really going,” Sirius said.

            “Brilliant idea!” James declared, clapping his hands together. “Why didn’t we think of that before?”

            “Because you’re daft,” Sirius replied. James threw a pillow at him.

            Peter was hunched down beside his bed, looking unusually small. “What if Remus just doesn’t want us to know?” he asked quietly.

            James waved him away. “We’re his best mates,” he said; “we tell each other everything. If Remus is hiding something from us, it’s not because he wants to.” James was sure of that.

            Sirius folded his _Weird Remus Things_ parchment back up and slipped it between his bedsheets. The boys promised each other they’d keep an eye out for more clues as soon as Remus returned, and the next time he vanished to see a mother who may or may not have been sick, they’d be ready with the cloak.


	16. Remus's Newest Scar

            Hunger and anger. They were the only two sensations the wolf felt, strong enough to drive anything more rational out of his mind. As he lunged at the walls of his prison and scratched at the wood over the windows until his pads bled, the pain hardly even registered. He’d do anything for food, anything. Even tear himself apart.

            He howled a weak, pained howl, wishing someone would answer it and tell him he was not alone. But he was; he always was.

            So the wolf turned instead to himself, needing to make the pain register, needing to feel something other than the hunger. He grabbed at his leg and sunk his teeth in until the taste of blood filled his mouth. It was the wrong kind of blood, sour on his tongue, but it brought with it the kind of pain that consumes the mind. So he dug his teeth in more and more, bringing as much pain as he could before his survival instincts finally kicked in and made him stop.

            And then the hunger was back, as fierce as ever. And the wolf limped forward, fresh blood warming the floor around him, and threw himself again at the walls, knowing they would never come down but still having to try, again and again, until finally he was so pained and exhausted and dizzy from loss of blood that he collapsed unconscious in a corner, passed out for a few blissful hours until the hunger’s pull awoke him and he had to start all over again.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

            When Remus came to the next day, his entire body ached with a pain that would have made him scream if he hadn’t been so used to it. He tried to open his eyes, but found that only one would obey.

            “Madam Pomfrey,” he called, his heart racing with sudden panic. Had he scratched one of his eyes out last night?

            The matron came rushing over, pulling back the privacy curtain to find Remus sitting halfway up in his bed. “Remus?” she asked.

            “My—my eye.” He reached up to feel it, his fingers finding a lump of gauze.

            “Oh, yes, that. It seems you had a go at your face last night. The eye will be fine—I’ve made a potion to keep out infection—but, well…there will be some scarring around it.”

            Remus swallowed. He’d taken pains to hide his scars as best he could, but he couldn’t hide one on his face. Most wounds and scars could be healed by potions, or at least concealed—but werewolf bites and scratches were cursed, unable to be helped by anything. If he’d attacked his face, he’d show the proof of it for the rest of his life.

            Madam Pomfrey brought over some chicken soup, forcing Remus to eat the whole bowl. He’d have preferred something sweet, chocolate maybe, but of course he didn’t tell Pomfrey that. He definitely didn’t want to be eating something with meat, not after spending a whole night lusting after it. Remus’s memories from his night as the wolf were as blurry and incomplete as always, but he remembered the thirst for flesh quite well, and it made him sick to his stomach.

            “You sure you don’t want to try my idea next moon?” Pomfrey asked. She’d offered to have the gamekeeper bring some dead animals up to Remus’s shack before his transformations so he’d have something other than himself to snack on.

            Remus shook his head. “The wolf won’t go for animal meat,” he said. “If anything, it’ll just make him hungrier.” He never referred to _the wolf_ as himself, even though he knew all too well that they were one and the same.

            After Remus finished the soup she shoved down his throat, Pomfrey set to work changing his wrappings and bandages. She applied a fresh poultice of dittany and powdered silver to any wounds that were still bleeding, her brow furrowed with concentration. Finally she turned to the wound covering his eye, and gingerly began unwrapping the dressings from around his head.

            “Madam Pomfrey?” Remus asked timidly once she’d finished. “Can I see it?”

            Pomfrey hesitated for a second; then, reluctantly, she conjured a little mirror and handed it to Remus. He held it up to his face, bracing himself.

            There was a large, deep scar running diagonally from just above his nose down to his cheek, crossing over his swollen-shut right eye. He couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of it.

            “The swelling will be down by tomorrow,” Pomfrey said, “and the scar won’t look quite as red once the irritation is gone; but I can’t make it go away.”

            Remus swallowed, handing her back the mirror. “Right. Thank you.” He imagined his friends’ questioning faces when he returned with a huge scar across his face, his mother’s gasp of horror when she saw what he’d done to himself while he was away. He imagined what it would be like to be reminded of his wolfish self every time he glanced in a mirror.

            Madam Pomfrey gave him another poultice to hold over his eye and told him, as she always did, to let her know if he needed anything. Then she ducked around the privacy curtain and vanished, leaving Remus alone to finally let the tears stream out from his single open eye.


	17. Quidditch Tryouts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time getting this chapter to come together, so it's probably not the best; Quidditch is definitely not my favorite subject to write about, but I just had to talk about James's first-ever tryout for the team :)

            September thirtieth, the day Gryffindor held its Quidditch trials, started out foggy and cool, with a little rain drizzling down from the skies. James’s friends followed him out to the pitch; he was wearing their House colors in an attempt to show as much team spirit as possible, and he’d even tied a red-and-gold ribbon around the end of his newly-polished broom.

            James hardly ever got nervous—he hadn’t broken a sweat over exams last year when everyone else was scrambling to study, and he’d never once been scared to sneak around the school after hours. But he was scared for this. “I really, _really_ want to do well,” he told his friends.

            Sirius ruffled his hair affectionately. “You’ve told us a hundred times, mate. You’re gonna do great.”

            “Not if my glasses keep getting wet and fogging up,” James muttered, wiping them with the hem of his shirt.

            Remus held out a hand. “I can fix that,” he assured him. James cautiously handed him his glasses, and Remus tapped the lenses gently and muttered _“Impervius.”_

When James put the glasses back on, he was delighted to find that they repelled the rain and fog, giving him a clear line of vision. Relieved, he couldn’t help but give Remus a hug, at which the other boy laughed and leaned back into him. “Thank you so much, Re. You’re a lifesaver.”

            “It’s not a big deal,” Remus said with a blush. “It’s one of the charms in our textbook this year.” Looking into Remus’s face, James’s eyes unconsciously traced the long scar running down across his eye. When Remus had shown up one day in the middle of Transfiguration class with it, avoiding the other boys when they demanded to know how he’d gotten it, Sirius had immediately added the scar to his _Weird Remus Things_ list. James wanted to know what was going on with Remus as much as ever—but today was all about Quidditch. He couldn’t let himself become distracted by anything else.

            When they reached the pitch, Sirius, Remus and Peter said their goodbyes to James and wished him luck before heading up into one of the stands to watch the tryouts. James watched them go, wishing that they could have stayed with him even though he knew that was stupid. He had to do this by himself.

            Ramsey King, Gryffindor’s Seeker and new team captain, walked out to the middle of the pitch and gestured for everyone to meet him there. James followed the crowd of broom-wielding Gryffindors over to him, pushing forward through the huddle they formed to get as close as he could to Ramsey.

            Ramsey opened the trunk set on the ground in front of him to reveal a full set of Quidditch balls inside, Beater bats included. “All right, Gryffindors,” he began; “here’s how we’re going to do this. Everyone has to try out for a spot on the team, regardless of whether or not they were on it last year. We have to give the new guys a chance, after all.”

            As he spoke, James realized the girl straining to see over his shoulder was Mary Macdonald, Lily Evans’s friend. “You’re trying out?” he hissed at her, surprised.

            She glared back at him. “What, you don’t think I can play?” She hoisted her broomstick over her shoulder. “I’ll have you know, Potter, I’ve been on a broom since I was old enough to walk.”

            James gawked. “What? I thought your parents were Muggles.”

            “They’re _Squibs_ ,” she snapped. “Big difference. They know as much about Quidditch as anyone.”

            “Okay, sorry,” said James, holding up his hands defensively. “What’re you going out for?”

            “Chaser,” Mary told him. “There’s two openings, and it’s my best position.”

 _Great_. More competition. “I’m going for Chaser, too.”

            Mary smirked. “Well, I probably shouldn’t wish you good luck, then.”

            “Ditto.”

            Ramsey clapped his hands, finishing his spiel. “Okay, Beaters. You’re up first.”

            Beater tryouts were quick and simple, with last year’s Beaters Gavin Macmillan and Patricia Rakepick easily coming out on top. Then it was the Keepers’ turn; not surprisingly, fourth year Frank Longbottom defended his spot on the team against the two second years who dared to try to oust him. And, finally, only the Chaser candidates were left on the field.

           By now James was so nervous he was sweating; there were still eleven Gryffindors on the pitch, including Alice Wren, who’d been a Chaser on the team for the past two years. Eight of them would be going home empty-handed.

           Ramsey flew down and landed neatly on the grass, juggling the Quaffle between his hands. “I want to see how you work together in something like a real-game setting,” he explained. “So I’m going to put you into groups of three and have you face off against each other, with a Beater each on your team and either myself or Frank playing Keeper. After everyone goes through a few rotations, I’ll pick out the best three Chasers for the team. Understand?” James nodded with the rest of the crowd, his hand tightening around his broom.

           James was teamed up with Mary and a third year boy named Theo Flint, with Gavin as their team Beater and Ramsey as their Keeper. The three Chaser candidates examined each other warily; they might be meant to work together, but today they knew they were really playing only for themselves.

           “On my whistle,” Ramsey said when they were all set to go. Crouching over their broomsticks, James, Mary and Theo lined up on one side of him, with three other Chasers, Alice included, on the other. They stared determinedly into each other’s eyes for one long, tense moment; then Ramsey blew his whistle and threw the Quaffle high into the air.

           James shot up into the sky after it, feeling the soggy morning wind lick at his ears. The other Chasers were right at his heels, angling their brooms up more and more to gain altitude as quickly as possible. As the Quaffle began to arc downwards, James leaned forward and caught the ball squarely between his two forearms, pulling it into his chest and speeding off towards the goalposts. Distantly he heard a cheer rising up from one of the stands—no doubt it was his friends watching through the binoculars he’d bought them over the summer. He smiled, imagining the stands filled with cheering fans watching his every move in the sky on game day.

           And then Alice Wren was swooping down on him, snatching the Quaffle clean out of his hands. James dove after her, angry that he’d let himself get distracted so easily.

           Alice sped off and threw the Quaffle through the middle goal, easily scoring against the Keeper Ramsey, who was more interested in watching their scrimmage than participating. “Ten points for Gryffindor!” someone yelled from the stands; Alice smiled.

           Mary Macdonald took possession of the Quaffle next, James following her across the pitch about five yards to her left. A Bludger flew right over his shoulder, nearly knocking him off his broom—he recovered quickly, though, and made it over to the goalposts just in time for Mary to toss him the ball as Alice made another dive for it. James caught it easily and threw it towards the left goalpost, only for Frank to fly in and kick it out of the way just before it made it through. And then Alice’s team took possession again, and the game continued on.

           By the time the round was over, James had scored three times, and Mary had scored four. Alice, on the other hand, had made nine goals easily. James returned to the ground feeling pretty badly about his chances. _Of course Alice scored more_ , he tried to tell himself. _She was going against Ramsey as Keeper, not Frank_.

           He sat on the grass and watched as a new batch of Chaser candidates took to the sky, but he quickly realized that none of them were any good. One girl, a ditzy curly-haired ginger, fumbled a catch so badly that the Quaffle dropped ten yards before it was recovered.

           They went through four more rotations, with James getting the chance to play alongside Alice (and help her score quite a few times) in the final one, before Ramsey blew his whistle and ordered everyone out of the sky. The eleven Chaser candidates formed a line in front of him, waiting for him to announce who had made the cut. _Please, please, please_ , James thought, squeezing shut his eyes as Ramsey paced back and forth. He’d done well, but had it been well enough?

           “Okay,” Ramsey said finally, “I’ve reached my decision. This year’s Chasers will be Alice Wren, Mary Macdonald, and James Potter.”

           He kept speaking, but the fireworks going off in James’s head drowned out the rest of his words. After years and years of dreaming about it, catching Quaffles in his backyard with his father and poring over books on the world’s best players, James was on a Quidditch team.

           Ramsey took the chosen team aside and told them to meet him on the pitch the next morning for practice; James nodded eagerly until he dismissed them, then spun on his heels and sprinted over to the tiny figures of his friends waiting for him on the edge of the pitch.

           James collapsed into Sirius’s arms as soon as he reached them, exhausted and dizzy with excitement. Sirius pulled him back up and shook him roughly by the shoulders. “So?” he demanded. “Did you make it?”

           “Yeah,” James told him, his voice shaky. “I made it, Sirius. I’m on the team.”

           And James thought that those were probably some of the best words ever to come out of his mouth.


	18. The Whomping Willow

            “I have to go home,” said Remus one evening in mid-October. “My mum’s illness is flaring up again.”

            Peter pretended to look surprised, though really he’d been waiting for this ever since Remus had started looking sickly again last week. “Oh, no!” he exclaimed, sitting forward on his bed. “That’s terrible.”

            “Aw, Re, you’re gonna miss the lunar eclipse tonight,” James added. “Sinistra’s been prattling on about it for months.”

            “I know,” Remus said regretfully, buttoning up his coat. “I wish I could stay for it.” He finished with the coat and tied up his duffel bag, ruffling his hair with a sigh. “You’ll tell me about it when I get back, right?”

            “’Course, Re,” Sirius promised. “Though I’m sure you can see the eclipse in Wales, too.”

            Remus smiled. “Right; of course. I’ll see you guys later.” He grabbed his bag and gave them all a quick wave goodbye before vanishing down the stairs.

            The boys waited for about five seconds before scrambling for their shoes. “Get the cloak,” Sirius hissed to James, who pulled it out from under his bed and threw it over the two of them. “Peter!” Peter gave up halfway through tying his shoe and ran over to his friends, slipping underneath the cloak between them.

            “All right,” James breathed as he led them forward towards the door. “Remember: fast and quiet. Like Peeves running from the Bloody Baron.” Peter laughed; Sirius slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

            The three of them made it down into the common room and out into the hallway; Remus was at the far end of it, turning to head down a flight of stairs. James put an arm around Peter and pulled him forward after their roommate, Sirius keeping pace on Peter’s other side.

            They followed Remus down through the maze of staircases and up to the entrance of the hospital wing, lurking a good distance back so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Why’s he going to the hospital wing already?” Sirius wondered. “I thought he had to get himself beat up first.” Peter shook his head, feeling more confused than ever.

            “Well, one thing’s for sure,” James said. “He’s not going home to his sick mum.”

            Madam Pomfrey opened the door to the wing and brought Remus’s bag inside. She then emerged again and led him in the direction of the castle entrance hall. His three roommates exchanged glances under the cloak and followed, through the hall and out the front doors onto the castle grounds.

            “Where are they?” Sirius hissed once they were outside. Peter was the one who spotted them first: they were climbing the hill leading up to the feared Whomping Willow tree, a tree Peter had never dared to get within thirty feet of. He pointed to Remus and Pomfrey wordlessly.

            “The Willow?” James asked. “What the hell are they _doing_?”

            “Come on!” Sirius took off down the stone steps leading from the castle door, forcing James and Peter to follow. But Peter was distracted watching Remus and Pomfrey climb closer and closer to the tree, so close now that they could be whacked down by its branches….

            Sirius stepped on his untied shoelace, and Peter tumbled down the steps, dragging the other two with him and sending the Invisibility Cloak flying. “Ow!” James yelped, hitting his head hard on the stone. “Bloody hell, you guys!”

            Sirius recovered first, pulling himself off the steps and racing to grab the cloak and cover them up before they were noticed. “Peter, tie your shoes next time,” he hissed in Peter’s ear.

            “Sorry,” Peter squeaked. “I—I didn’t have time.”

            “Oh, damn it,” sighed James. “Where did they go?”

            Remus and Pomfrey were gone, vanished as if they’d been swallowed up by the earth. “Did they Disapparate?” Peter wondered.

            James rolled his eyes. “You can’t Disapparate on school grounds,” he said. “It’s impossible.”

            “Well, where did they go, then?” Where _could_ they have gone? There were no doors anywhere to vanish through, no tunnels to hide away in.

            “Wherever it is, I’m sure it has something to do with the Whomping Willow,” James said firmly. “That’s what they were headed, wasn’t it?”

            “Oh, no,” Peter whimpered. “I don’t want to go near it. Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye when he got too close.”

            “We’re not going to let you lose an eye, Peter,” sighed Sirius. “But you have to come with us, mate; we’ve only got one Invisibility Cloak.”

            So Peter reluctantly followed them up the hill to the Willow. Its branches began to quiver as they approached, warning them not to get any closer. It seemed to know they were there despite the cloak hiding them from view. Peter supposed the tree didn’t have eyes, anyway; it was using something else to sense them.

            And then, suddenly, the ground beside its trunk ripped open, and out climbed Madam Pomfrey, shaking cobwebs off of her gown. The Willow’s limbs froze until she was safely out of their reach; then the ground sewed itself back up and the tree reverted to its moving, angry self. With one quick glance behind her, Pomfrey headed back down the hill and towards the castle, passing only a few feet away from the boys under the cloak.

            “What the hell was that?” Sirius breathed once she was gone. “Did she just trap Remus under the Whomping Willow?”

            James shook his head. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “But Re seemed to know exactly what he was doing, going with her.”

            “Well, how do we get him out of there?” Sirius demanded. “Is there a spell to make the Willow freeze again?”

            “I’m sure there is,” replied James, “but none of us know it.”

            “Ugh. Where’s Remus when we need him?”

            “Trapped under a bloody tree.”

            The three of them crept cautiously forward, closer and closer to the Willow; one of its boughs came swooping suddenly down from the sky, embedding itself in the ground just inches away from Peter with a sickening _thud_.

            “Merlin,” Sirius whispered. “That thing’s going to kill us.”

            Peter whimpered. “Can we go back now? I don’t want to die.”

            “Fine,” said James, kicking at the ground in frustration as the bough shook itself free from the earth. “Stupid tree. Guess we’ll just have to come back next time, and hope no one trips over anyone’s shoelaces again.” Peter looked down guiltily.

            The boys left the Willow and returned to the castle, heading up to their dormitory to get ready for the night’s Astronomy class.


	19. Blood Moon

            When Sirius and his friends arrived at the top of the Astronomy Tower at ten o’clock that night, Professor Sinistra was pacing back and forth among the telescopes, looking more excited than Sirius had ever seen her. “You’re in for quite a treat tonight,” she told the arriving students. “Take a look at the moon.”

            Sirius craned his neck upwards and gaped at the giant red-orange disc floating in the darkness above their heads. “Whoa,” he breathed. Maybe he’d just never paid much attention before, but he’d never seen the moon looking like that. The rest of the students, he noticed, were having similar reactions.

            “Yes,” Sinistra said with a nod. “Tonight we are experiencing a total lunar eclipse, the first in quite a while. This kind of eclipse occurs when the sun, Earth and full moon are perfectly aligned, and the shadow of the Earth blocks the sun’s light from reaching the moon. Because of its reddish color, the moon under such conditions is often called a ‘blood moon.’”

            “Ooh, scary,” said James, raising his eyebrows at Sirius. “Just in time for Halloween.”

            Professor Sinistra caught his remark, nodding in James’s direction. “Indeed, Mr. Potter. Throughout history, many ancient civilizations have come up with myths and legends about the blood moon. It’s often been connected to demon attacks, or evil celestial beings swallowing up the moon and turning it red. However, if any of you end up taking Divination next year, you’ll learn that most Seers believe the blood moon is actually a good omen, bestowing luck and fortune upon anyone who falls under its influence.”

            “Maybe the blood moon will give us enough luck and fortune to figure out what’s going on with Remus,” Sirius muttered. He was still angry about what had happened with the Whomping Willow earlier, and very, very confused as to what Remus was doing in a secret tunnel underneath it. He’d been wondering about Remus for a while, of course; but it seemed like every time he and the others learned something new about him, the more questions they had.

            “I’ve already set up all your telescopes to focus on the moon,” Sinistra said. “Tonight, your assignment is simple: I want a sketch of the blood moon from each of you and a brief written description about its appearance.”

            Sirius found his telescope nestled between James’s and Peter’s; closing an eye, he peered up through the eyepiece at the red full moon. Through the telescope, it looked even cooler: its craters were tinted auburn-brown, its smooth surfaces scarlet with a lighter yellowish rim brightening its upper left edge. Sirius wished Remus could’ve seen it—he loved astronomy, and knew way more about it than Sirius, who had literally been named after a star. Remus seemed to know all the constellations in the sky by heart, and he could always tell his friends without a hint of hesitation what phase the moon was in, almost as if he were personally keeping track of it.

            _Personally keeping track of it._ “Oh, Merlin,” Sirius breathed. An idea had struck him, a crazy idea of what possibly could be going on with Remus. It was something that he would’ve muttered to James as a joke had it not made terrible, perfect sense. All the puzzle pieces that had been swirling around his mind for months came suddenly together in one gigantic, messy explosion. “No.”

            Sirius toppled backwards, falling back against the stone floor of the tower with his hands not bothering to cushion him. His head was reeling, the stars and the moon spinning through the sky like a top. It couldn’t be true—but everything fit together way too well. The scars, the time in the hospital wing, the secret tunnel under the Willow, the blood moon…. The _moon_ ….

            “Sirius?” James and Peter were crouching over him now, their faces wrinkled up with confusion. “Sirius, are you all right?” James asked him.

            Sirius shook his head, feeling the color leaching from his cheeks. “I think I know what’s wrong with Remus,” he said shakily. “I think…I think he’s a werewolf.”


	20. Remus Lupin, Werewolf

            James would’ve laughed had Sirius not looked like he was about to faint. The idea that Remus, their chocolate-eating, book-loving roommate was actually a vicious man-eating monster was too ridiculous for him to even comprehend. “Sirius…a werewolf? Are you mad, mate?”

            “I wish,” Sirius replied. “Look, we have to get out of here.”

            “Is everything all right?” Professor Sinistra was headed in their direction, looking concernedly down at Sirius. “What happened?”

            “I think Sirius is sick,” said James, thinking quickly. “Can me and Peter take him down to the hospital wing?”

            Sinistra took in Sirius’s colorless face, his trembling arms and legs, and nodded. “Fine. But I want you two to come right back after.”

            “Of course, Professor.” James and Peter hoisted Sirius up by his armpits and helped him down the tower stairs. They weren’t even pretending to have to carry him, really; Sirius’s body had gone totally limp.

            “Where are we going?” Peter asked.

            “Somewhere we can talk,” murmured Sirius. “Our dormitory.”

            So they dragged him all the way up Gryffindor Tower to their room and set Sirius down on the ledge beneath their window. James stepped back, folding his arms over his chest. “All right. Do you care to tell us why you think our roommate is a werewolf?”

            Sirius swallowed. “It’s the full moon tonight, James. Remus went and got himself trapped in a secret tunnel _on the night of the full moon_.”

            “So? Remus is disappearing all the time—it’s just a coincidence, mate.”

            “Yeah, exactly!” Sirius pressed on. “He disappears all the time; like once a month!”

            “It is once a month, isn’t it?” Peter muttered nervously.

            But James still waved them off. “This is ridiculous. Remus doesn’t even like when we’re mean to Snivellus and his friends. There’s no way he’s spending full moons ripping little children to shreds with Fenrir Greyback.”

            “Well, that’s why he’s trapping himself underground!” said Sirius. “So he _doesn’t_ rip anyone to shreds! And that’s why he’s been getting all these scars, why he has to spend days after the moon in the hospital wing—because he’s attacking himself instead!”

            “Bloody hell,” murmured James. “And he never gets dressed in front of us….” He shook his head. “No, this is crazy. He can’t be a werewolf; he just can’t.” Everything James had ever heard about werewolves—that they ate children, and kept their nails filed into claws—clashed completely with the bookish, wry Remus, who often looked too weak to even lift a finger. But maybe that was one of the effects of lycanthropy, a sickness that waxed and waned with the moon….

            “James,” said Sirius, cutting through his thoughts. “When was the last time Remus disappeared?”

            James blinked. “It was…it was the night we got Peeves to follow Snivellus around the school with his cymbals. You and me got detention for a week after, which I remember ended the day we had Quidditch tryouts, so…September twenty-third?”

            “Okay, September twenty-third.” Sirius went over to his bed and dug around underneath it until he found the astronomical event chart Sinistra had given them at the beginning of the year. “Look: September twenty-third was the day of the last full moon.”

            James snatched the chart from Sirius, his hands shaking. He was right—Remus’s last disappearance had also been on a full moon night. One time might have been a coincidence, but twice in a row?

            “Merlin.” James put a hand over his mouth. “Our roommate is actually a werewolf.”

            In absolutely any other situation, Sirius would be going on endlessly about proving James wrong—but now he was silent, looking as peaky as Remus often did. Remus Lupin, a _werewolf_.

            James lowered himself onto the edge of his bed, his knees feeling like they were about to give out. Peter collapsed by the window and froze there as if he’d been Petrified.

            “So,” James said eventually, breaking the silence, “what’re we going to do now?”

            “Well, we have to tell him we know,” said Sirius.

            “Why didn’t he tell us?” Peter squeaked. “I wish I knew before now that we’ve been living with a werewolf.”

            “He probably thought we’d be scared of him,” Sirius muttered. “Or tell everyone and get him kicked out of school.”

            “Of course we won’t,” James said firmly. “Whatever he is, he’s our mate. And it’s not his fault he’s a werewolf.”

            “Of course not,” Sirius agreed.

            “But werewolves…they work with You-Know-Who, don’t they?” Peter said tentatively. “Greyback and the others…they eat the children of anyone the Death Eaters don’t like.”

            James snorted. “There’s no way _Remus_ is working with the _Death Eaters_ , Peter. Think of who you’re talking about here. Re’s the one who sent us all furry mouse socks for Christmas.”

            “I know,” said Peter defensively. “I just meant…what if he gets angry once he realizes we know about him?”

            “Remus doesn’t get angry about anything,” Sirius pointed out. “When we tell him, and he realizes that we don’t care and we still want to be his mates, I think he’ll actually be the opposite.”

            “We _do_ still want to be his mates, right, Peter?” James asked, looking at Peter pointedly.

            “Of course,” Peter insisted.

            “Then it’s settled.” James gripped one of his bedposts, still stunned by what they’d figured out but more certain than ever that he wanted nothing to change between him and his friends, Remus included. “As soon as Re returns from the hospital wing, we tell him.”

            Sirius nodded, leaning back against the wall. “Well, it doesn’t look like any of us are going back to the Astronomy Tower tonight,” he observed.


	21. The Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurricane evacuations are never fun, but writing this sweet chapter helped me get through it :)

            It was nearly midnight when Remus was finally cleared to leave the hospital wing, three days after the full moon. Madam Pomfrey had to escort him up to Gryffindor Tower so he wouldn’t get in trouble for being out of bed after hours. “Remember to take it easy for the rest of the week,” she reminded him when they reached the Fat Lady’s portrait. “Nothing too strenuous.”

            “Don’t worry, I know,” Remus assured her. He knew he’d spend the next few days feeling too weak and drained to even consider doing anything that would be called _strenuous_.

            He made his way up the stairs to the top-level dormitory, wishing as he always did around full moons that he and his roommates hadn’t been so insistent on keeping the highest room. Breathing heavily, he pulled open the door to find all the room’s lanterns lit and James, Peter and Sirius sitting up on their beds, watching silently as he stepped inside.

            His roommates being up at this hour was nothing too unusual—the four of them would often stay up to plan their next adventure or play Exploding Snap late into the night (or at least until a prefect came up to make them quiet down). What _was_ unusual, however, was the fact that all their eyes were fixed on Remus, as intently as if they were studying him. He felt his cheeks going pink under their gazes.

            “What is it?” he asked cautiously, closing the door behind him. “Did something happen?”

            “Nothing happened, mate,” said James slowly. Confused, Remus went over to his bed and began to unpack his bag.

            “Sorry I was gone for so long,” he said after a good thirty seconds of silence. “My dad was working, so I had to take my mum to her doctor appointment today.”

            The other three boys looked at each other. “Er…Remus?” Sirius said. “We know you didn’t go home to visit your mum.”

            Remus’s blood froze in his veins. “What? Of course I did.” _No no no no no._

            “No, you didn’t,” Sirius pressed. “You went into some tunnel under the Whomping Willow for a night, because it was the full moon and you’re a werewolf.”

            Remus couldn’t have heard that correctly. They were words he’d feared one of his roommates would utter ever since he met them, but in his thoughts and nightmares they’d always been accompanied by frightened screaming. _You’re a werewolf._

            He didn’t know what to do, what he was supposed to say. This was the moment that everyone—his parents, Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey—had warned him about his entire life. Remus saw the life he’d been living for the past year and a half, learning spells and laughing with his friends and pretending to be normal, vanish before his eyes. He’d been so careful to hide his scars and cover up his disappearances…where had he gone wrong?

            “How did you find out?” Remus choked out.

            “Well, you’ve been disappearing a lot, Re, and we were all kind of worried about you,” James explained. “So this last time you told us you were going home, we—well, we followed you under my cloak,” he said apologetically. “And we saw Madam Pomfrey taking you to the Whomping Willow. And then Sirius figured out that you’re always disappearing the night of the full moon.” There was something wrong about his tone; James didn’t sound angry or afraid, almost like he…. _No_ , Remus told himself, _that’s stupid_. _Wishful thinking._

“Look, you guys,” he said, “I am so, so sorry.” He stood up shakily to leave. “Coming here was a bad idea—I always thought it was. I’ll go talk to Dumbledore right now; can you please just not say anything to anyone else until I get back?”

            All three of his roommates looked at him like he was crazy. “Where d’you think you’re going, mate?” Sirius said. “Sit your arse back down.” Remus did, not knowing what was going on. Did they want to yell at him a bit first, for deceiving them into thinking he was just some normal wizard boy?

            “Remus, we don’t want you to leave,” Peter said softly. “I’ve always been afraid of werewolves, and pretty much everything else…but I’m not afraid of you.”

            “I don’t think it’s possible to be afraid of you, Re,” James said with a laugh. “I mean, sure, we were all a bit freaked out when we first realized it, but I figure if you haven’t attacked any of us by now, we’re probably safe.”

            Remus blinked. “Of course I haven’t attacked any of you! But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be afraid! I’ve got this…this condition….”

            “So what?” Sirius demanded. “It’s not like you chose it. I’m an inbred pure-blood from an insufferable family of Slytherins, but none of you rejected me when you figured that out. My family are the ones who hate people for things they can’t control; and as I’m sure you know by now, I do everything I can to be the exact opposite of them.”

            Remus shook his head. Did they not understand? “This isn’t like the difference between pure-bloods and Muggle-borns. Werewolves are Dark creatures who kill people, and lycanthropy is contagious. I put you all in danger by being here, and you’re not even mad about that? If I’m not careful, everyone at this school could end up like me.”

            “Well, good thing you’re the most careful person we know,” James said. “Too careful, if you ask me.”

            “Honestly, Re,” said Sirius, “it’s like you want us to be pissed with you. We’re not; we understand why you kept it a secret. And now that we know, we’re trying to tell you that we’re all right with it. We won’t tell anyone else, and we definitely still want to be mates with you.”

            “Yeah,” James added. “Having a werewolf for a friend is pretty wicked, actually.”

            Remus just gaped at his roommates for a long, silent minute, his frazzled brain slowly processing everything they had said. He felt tears gathering in his eyes, and put his head in his hands as they began to rush out. This had to be a dream; there was no way this was real.

            “Remus, are you crying?” Peter asked. It only made him cry harder, his whole body shaking. He felt like he had when he was a little boy, a lonely little boy who’d always fantasized about having friends he could share his secret with, friends his parents had convinced him would never exist.

            “Hey.” A hand gripped Remus’s shoulder; he looked through his fingers to find Sirius perched on his bed beside him. James and Peter had come over, too, kneeling on his bedsheets. None of them looked the tiniest bit afraid, not even Peter.

            “Do you…do you really mean it?” Remus whispered, almost too quietly for them to make out. “What you said?”

            “’Course we meant it,” said Sirius, squeezing Remus’s shoulder. It sent a wave of pain down his weakened body, but Remus couldn’t have cared less. “We’re a team, the four of us. No matter what.”

            Remus let out another, louder sob, and his roommates drew in close around him and pulled him into a tight hug. Remus hugged them back, crying against their chests and feeling like he’d somehow found the three best friends in the entire world.


	22. The Shrieking Shack

           “It’s that one,” said Remus, pointing to a knot at the base of the Willow’s trunk. He and his roommates were hidden under James’s Invisibility Cloak, but the long stick Sirius had picked up was not; Remus imagined it seemingly floating towards the Willow of its own accord. Oh, well; he’d seen plenty of weirder things at Hogwarts.

            Sirius prodded the knot, and the angry branches of the Willow went suddenly still, frozen in place like a normal tree’s. Peter let out a sigh of relief.

            A hole opened up in the ground between a tangle of roots, and the four of them headed for it as quickly as they could, not wanting to be stuck beside the tree when it came back to life. They slid into the hole one at a time, finding themselves in the low, dark tunnel that led up to Remus’s shack.

            James put away his cloak as the hole closed up behind them, leaving them in total darkness. _“Lumos,”_ Remus murmured, lighting up his wand; the rest of them did the same.

            “This is so cool, Re,” Sirius breathed. “Your own secret passageway.” Remus didn’t think there was anything _cool_ about the entire situation, but he nodded anyway.

            “Come on.” He led them down the tunnel, all of them but Peter having to hunch over so their heads didn’t scrape the rock above them. The tunnel twisted and turned, going on and on and on, until finally Remus could make out a faint light the marked the end of it.

            They climbed out and found themselves on the creaky floorboards of Remus’s transformation shack. It was the first time Remus had been in the shack during the day; the small amount of sunlight that made it through the boarded-up windows highlighted the deep claw marks on the walls and the spots of blood on the floor and furniture.

            Remus watched his friends uncertainly as they took it all in. It was only one day after they’d told him they had figured out his secret, and Remus was still half-waiting for the reality of his situation to hit them. But as they peered around at all the damage his wolfish self had caused, their expressions showed fascination, not fear. James picked up a chair leg the wolf had ripped clean off its frame and gaped at the toothmarks embedded in it.

            “Merlin, you’re strong, Re,” he said.

            “The wolf’s very strong,” Remus agreed. “Stronger than any normal wolf. Dumbledore had all sorts of enchantments put on this place so it can’t tear through the walls.”

            Sirius was looking through the cracks in the windows, trying to discern their surroundings. “You said we’re somewhere in Hogsmeade?” he asked Remus.

            “That’s what Madam Pomfrey said,” Remus replied. “Right outside the village.”

            “I think this might be the Shrieking Shack,” Peter murmured.

            Remus turned to him. “The what?”

            “I heard some of the older students talking about it in the common room once,” Peter said. “A boarded-up shack in Hogsmeade that the villagers hear shrieks and howls coming from at night. They think it’s haunted.”  

            “Oh.” Remus’s cheeks went red. He’d never thought about that, the fact that there might be people hearing his howls and cries of pain on full moon nights. He'd definitely never thought about anyone giving his shack a name. “Yes, well, this is probably it, then.”  

            “That’s amazing,” Sirius said. “ _The Shrieking Shack_. You have your own secret passageway _and_ haunted house, Re.”

            “Well, I am the one haunting it,” Remus pointed out. “Do you want to see upstairs?”

            He gave his roommates the same tour of the shack that Madam Pomfrey had given him when he’d first arrived at Hogwarts. It was in considerably worse shape now than it had been then—the paint had been ripped off of most of the walls, and the doors and furniture were covered in scars made by teeth and claws. The bed on the top floor had been completely ripped up, with down feathers and bits of fabric scattered all around.

            “Remus,” James said, “that wolf has some serious anger issues.”

            Remus snorted. “Yes, well, that’s what happens when you keep a werewolf from attacking anyone but himself.”

            “When were you attacked, Remus?” Peter asked abruptly. “And who did it?”

            James shoved him. “Don’t ask him that, Petey.”

            “It’s all right,” Remus said. “I was bitten when I was four years old. I don’t know who did it; some random werewolf, I guess. He broke through my bedroom window and attacked me while I was asleep.” Though Remus had been very young, he still remembered that night: waking up to unbearable pain, screaming and crying as his father drove out the wolf and his mother collapsed with horror. It was his earliest memory; he remembered nothing of what his life had been like before the bite.

            Peter shivered. “That’s horrible,” he said quietly. James and Sirius, who were unfazed by pretty much everything, had both gone pale. They all looked a whole lot more serious than they had before.

            “My dad got rid of him before he could do too much damage,” said Remus; “but he managed to get a good bite in first.” Remus rolled up his left robe sleeve to show them the bite that had changed his life, still etched deep into his skin—a full set of werewolf fangs wrapped around his biceps. His roommates gathered around to get a good look at it.

            “Bloody hell, mate,” said James. “Ouch.”

            “ _Ouch_ doesn’t begin to cover it,” Remus muttered, pulling his sleeve back down. He spread his arms, indicating the damage around the room. “That bite’s what made all of this happen.”

            Sirius swallowed. “I’m sorry, Re. We had no idea.” He put a hand to his forehead.

            James nodded. “Is there anything we could do to help? Maybe cushion the walls in here or something?”

            Remus shook his head. “The wolf needs the pain; it’s the only thing that keeps him from biting and scratching himself. He does plenty of that too, of course, but he’d do more of it if he didn’t have any other ways to hurt himself.”

            “Damn,” Sirius murmured. “That sounds rough.”

            “Well, we’ll figure something else out, then,” James said determinedly. “The three of us aren’t gonna let you keep tearing yourself up every month. We’re smart; we’ll think of something.” Peter and Sirius nodded their agreement.

            Remus nodded back at them, feeling tears pricking his eyes. He knew his friends wouldn’t be able to do anything to help with his condition, but the fact that they were so willing to try meant more to him than he could say. He led them out of the shack and back down the tunnel, feeling less alone than he ever had before.


	23. Visiting Remus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some bad news: I know I've been updating this fic super frequently, but now school has started up for me again and I'm a few months away from getting my first-ever book published (!!), so I won't be able to update nearly as much for a while. I'll still be posting whenever I can, though, and if anyone wants to remind me to do so you can nag me all you want on [my Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lmorasey) :)

            Gryffindor’s first Quidditch game of the year was against Hufflepuff, and they won by a landslide. Ramsey caught the Golden Snitch after only thirty minutes, but not before James had time to score six goals; Ramsey claimed that had to be some sort of record for a new player. The team was quickly whisked off the pitch and herded by the rest of the Gryffindors up to their common room for a celebration, but as soon as they reached the castle, James ducked out of the crowd and went to find Peter and Sirius. The three of them had something else to do first.

            “You were amazing, mate!” Sirius cried when James reached them. He was waving a Gryffindor pennant above his head.

            “That point you scored between the Keeper’s legs was so cool!” Peter added. “I can’t believe he didn’t fall off his broom.”

            James put his arms around the two of them and directed them towards the hospital wing, so happy he was practically skipping. “That was the most fun I’ve ever had,” he declared.

            Sirius gasped. “Even more fun than hexing Snivellus?”

            “Even more fun than hexing Snivellus,” James confirmed. “Come on; we have to tell Remus.”

            The three boys rapped loudly against the hospital wing door until Madam Pomfrey pulled it open. “What do you want?” she demanded of them.

            “We’re here to see Remus,” Peter told her.

            Pomfrey looked caught off guard. “Remus?” Then her eyes fell on James and narrowed. “You’re filthy, boy. Dirt all over your face, wearing those sweaty Quidditch robes….”

            “Look, Remus asked for us to visit him,” Sirius interrupted her. “Ask him yourself if you don’t believe us. Patients are allowed to have visitors, right? Or are you holding them all prisoner here?”

            “Of course not,” Pomfrey snapped. “Hold on.” And she shut the door in their faces to go talk to Remus.

            A few minutes later, she returned and reluctantly let the boys inside. “Only for a few minutes,” she called after them. “He needs to rest.”

            James headed straight for the privacy curtain in the back of the wing and pulled it back to find Remus sitting up eagerly in bed, waiting for their news. “So?” he pressed. “Did we win?”

            “Of course we won!” said Sirius. “Those yellow badgers were no match for James Fleamont Potter!”

            “Oh, thank Merlin!” Although Remus was still very weak, he managed to pull himself to his feet and give James a big celebratory hug. James hugged him back, laughing into his shoulder, then made sure to help Remus back into his bed.

            “Ugh,” Remus said, pinching shut his nose. “You stink, James.”

            “That’s the stench of champions,” James replied proudly. “Blood, sweat and tears!”

            “Well, a little shower never hurt anyone,” muttered Remus, still holding his nose.

            James rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Re; like you wanted to wait for me to take a _shower_ to find out how we did.”

            “Fair point,” Remus admitted. He sat forward. “So, what was the final score?”

            “Eighty to three hundred ten,” Peter answered. “And James scored six times!”

            Remus sighed. “I wish I could’ve been there,” he murmured. “Sorry I missed it, James.”

            James shook his head. “Last night was the full moon, mate, and you can barely walk. You probably would’ve frozen to death out there.” Sirius and Peter were both bundled up in scarves and jackets against the cold November wind; James wasn’t, but diving and swooping around on a broom had kept his body plenty warm.

            Remus’s stomach growled loudly; Sirius smiled as he sat down on the bed beside him. “You want us to bring you back something from the party? We pre-ordered three baked hams from the house-elves.”

            “No meat,” Remus said firmly. “Unless Pomfrey makes me eat it, I try to go vegetarian for a few days after the moon.”

            James couldn’t imagine giving up meat for even a few days, but he supposed it would be a bit different if he were a werewolf. “Well, what do you want, then? We can sneak something in here tonight once Pomfrey’s asleep.”

            Remus smiled, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. “What I really want right now, more than anything, is some Honeydukes chocolate.”

            “Honeydukes,” Peter repeated dreamily. “Me, too.”

            “Well, that’s a bit harder to get,” Sirius admitted. “But we’ll bring you some Gryffindor-colored cake. I’m pretty sure we asked for it to be chocolate flavored.”

            “That works, too,” said Remus, his smile growing. “You guys are great, you know that?”

            “Of course we know that,” James told him. “And you know what? Next time there’s a student trip to Hogsmeade, we’re going with them, and we’ll buy you a whole stash of Honeydukes chocolate for after the moons. I heard Patricia Rakepick bragging before the game about a secret passage into the village.”

            “There isn’t another trip until after the holidays,” Sirius said.

            “We’ll go after the holidays, then! Before the January moon. We can go to the Three Broomsticks too, and try some butterbeers!”

            “That sounds fantastic,” said Sirius. “I’m definitely in.”

            “Me too!” added Peter excitedly.

            “If it involves Honeydukes, I’m there,” Remus murmured. “And I can finally see what the Shrieking Shack looks like from the outside.”

            “And we can go to Zonko’s,” Sirius pointed out. James gave him a wicked grin.

            Remus sighed. “Please don’t tell me you two’ll be throwing Dungbombs down all the hallways.”

            “No promises, Re,” James said solemnly. “You’re asking too much of us.”

            “Speaking of Dungbombs,” said Sirius, “Frank Longbottom promised to sell me some at the party today. Only two Sickles each.”

            Remus laughed. “You can go up there now, you know. I’m sure you’ve been missed, James; you’re a Quidditch hero now.”

            James did want to check out the party, but he hated leaving Remus behind. He gave the other boy a squeeze on the knee. “We’ll bring you that cake tonight,” he promised. “And any other chocolate we can find.”

            Remus raised his eyebrows. “I’ll hold you to that.”

            Madam Pomfrey flung back Remus’s curtain, glowering down at his visitors. “He needs rest,” she said through her teeth. “You can come back tomorrow, but right now you need to leave him be.”

            “We were just leaving,” Sirius said, ruffling Remus’s hair. “Bye, mate.”

            “Bye,” Remus called after them as Pomfrey escorted them impatiently out of the hospital wing. “Remember the cake.”


	24. The Marauders

            “You sure Patricia meant _this_ mirror?” Remus asked skeptically, tracing his fingers along its gilded frame.

            “She said the fancy golden mirror on the fourth floor,” James replied. “I’m pretty sure this is the only one it could be.”

            “How do we get past it?” Peter wondered.

            “Patricia said we have to ask it nicely.”

            Sirius gave James a look out of the sides of his eyes. “You sure she wasn’t messing with you, mate?”

            “Guess we’re about to find out.” James cleared his throat and took a few steps back, staring the mirror right in the eye. Even Peter thought he looked a little stupid. “Hey there, pretty mirror. My friends and I would really, really like to use the tunnel behind you. Would you please open up for us?”

            To Peter’s great surprise, the mirror listened, detaching itself from the wall and swinging open like a door to reveal a tunnel stretching out behind it. James turned to his friends smugly.

            “And this leads all the way to Hogsmeade?” Sirius said.

            “Yep.” James climbed inside the tunnel, beckoning the rest of them forward. “Come on, you lot, before Filch sees us!”

            So the rest of them followed James into the tunnel, Sirius having to hoist Peter up behind him. As soon as they were all inside the mirror-door swung shut, leaving them sealed in.

            The four of them lit up their wands and followed the tunnel up and down flights of stairs and through corridors wide and narrow. It was just as long as the tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack; Peter was panting by the time they reached the end of it.

            There was one final ladder to climb, leading up to a big rock James and Sirius cast aside to reveal blinding daylight above them. “Here we are,” James declared, leading the way up the ladder.

            They emerged beneath a large snowbank, the winter wind biting at their ears. Sirius dragged the rock back over to cover the hole they’d come out of, and the boys pushed their way forward through the snow, entering Hogsmeade for the first time ever.

            It was a beautiful little village, with quaint little thatched-roof shops and homes and students running around throwing snowballs at each other in the streets. Peter’s heart raced with excitement; he couldn’t wait to see everything.

            “So,” Sirius asked, “where to first?”

            “Zonko’s, of course,” James replied. The two of them shared a conspiratorial grin.

            Remus sighed. “You two can go to Zonko’s; Peter and I want to check out Honeydukes.”

            “Oh, yes,” Peter agreed with a squeal. His mouth was already watering at the thought.

            “We’ll split up then,” said James. “Let’s meet in front of the Three Broomsticks—I’m sure we’ll all want to go there.”

            “Agreed.” James and Sirius took off for the red-painted shop labelled _Zonko’s_ , while Peter followed Remus over to a green one on the other side of the snowy street with boxes of sweets displayed in its windows.

            A little bell chimed when they stepped inside, and immediately they were greeted by the smells of melted chocolate and peppermint. Peter gawked around at all the products—Acid Pops, Jelly Slugs, Sugar Quills, every candy he could possibly imagine—and giggled with delight. He already knew this would be his favorite shop in Hogsmeade.

            Peter ended up buying a bag of Cauldron Cakes and some Exploding Bonbons, while Remus fished out enough money for a pair of Sugar Quills and three bars of Honeydukes’ finest chocolate. They bagged up their sweets and headed back out into the snow, both of them grinning.

            They waited about ten minutes for James and Sirius to meet them at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks, each of them shouldering a full bag of Zonko’s products. “What did you two get?” Sirius asked.

            Remus and Peter pulled out their spoils; the other two shook their heads at Remus’s chocolate bars. “I thought we said you’d be getting a whole stash of those, Re.”    

            Remus went pink, pulling his scarf up over his cheeks. “Well, this was all I could afford,” he said simply. “It’s plenty for me.”

            “Rubbish.” Sirius threw Remus his coin pouch. “Take that and buy yourself some more.” Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius cut him off by saying, “I stole that money from my parents over Christmas. I want it all to be spent by the time they find out, so you’d be doing me a favor.”

            Remus glanced down at the money. “Well, I can’t say it takes much to convince me to buy more chocolate. Thanks, Sirius.”

            All four of them went into Honeydukes this time; Remus bought fifteen more bars of chocolate, and James and Sirius each picked up a couple of candies for themselves. They then took a few minutes to walk up and down the streets of Hogsmeade, stepping inside any stores that caught their attention—James had to be dragged out of Spintwitches Sporting Needs before he could drop two hundred Galleons on a new broomstick—and then returned to the Three Broomsticks, finding themselves an empty table towards the back of the inn. Remus immediately ripped open one of his chocolate bars and took a bite out of it, sighing as it melted in his mouth.

            Madam Rosmerta, a young curly-haired woman in a stylishly-cut red dress, stopped at their table to take their orders. “You’re new,” she observed. “Third years?”

            “Yep,” said James. “We’ll have four butterbeers, please.”

            Rosmerta smiled. “Coming right up.”

            As she walked away, Peter caught the eye of another student a few tables to their right—Lucius Malfoy, a Slytherin prefect. Lucius’s cold gray eyes narrowed, and he rose from his talk with some younger Slytherins to confront the Gryffindor boys.

            “Oh, no,” Peter whimpered. “Malfoy’s coming.”

            “Perfect,” muttered Sirius, glaring at his family friend as he approached. “Can’t wait to have a chat with him.”

            “Sirius.” Lucius’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he took in the four of them. “I might be mistaken, but I’m pretty sure you and your friends are all second years.”

            “What a profound observation, Lucius,” said Sirius dryly. “Really, I had no idea.”

            “Ten points from Gryffindor for each of you,” Lucius said, “for marauding around Hogsmeade without permission.” Remus gave a little wince, but the rest of them blinked up at Lucius unfazed.

            “ _Marauding_ ,” James mused. “I like that word. A bit of a weird choice, but I like it. We’re _marauders_.”

            Sirius glanced at him. “You know, we were trying to think of something to call ourselves,” he said thoughtfully; “that just might be it. Thanks, Lucius.” He grinned up at Malfoy tauntingly.

            Lucius scowled at them and flipped his white-blond hair as he spun around, marching imperiously back to his table.

            “I like it, too,” said Remus. “What do you think, Peter?”

            “Hmm. _The Marauders_. It does sound cool,” Peter agreed. “Like we’re up to no good.”

            “Which we are, nearly all of the time,” Sirius pointed out. “It’s perfect.”

            That night, when the four of them returned to their dormitory, they changed the plaque on its door to simply read _THE MARAUDERS_. And from then on, that was what they always were called, by friends and enemies alike.   

 


	25. Animagi

            “Divination sounds terrible,” Sirius said, flipping through the pamphlets they’d been given about the elective classes they could choose to take next year. “I can’t imagine staring into a crystal ball all day.”

            “Same here,” James agreed. “Care of Magical Creatures sounds cool, though,”

            “Speaking as an actual magical creature, I agree,” said Remus. “And Professor Kettleburn seems interesting.”

            “Oh, right,” said Sirius. “He’s the one missing an arm and a leg. We’re definitely taking his class.”

            “What about Muggle Studies?” James wondered. “That’s supposed to be pretty easy. And we’ve always got Remus to help us understand Muggle stuff.”

            “Are we all taking the same classes?” Peter wondered.

            James and Sirius shrugged. “Probably,” Sirius said. “I’m sure Remus will want to take more than the required two, though.”

            “I _was_ thinking about Arithmancy,” Remus admitted. “I’m sure none of you would be interested in that, though.”

            “Yeah, no thanks, mate,” James told him. “I vote we go with Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies. Re can take his magic math class by himself.”

            “Sounds good,” agreed Sirius. The two of them bumped fists.

            “It’s one o’clock,” said Remus, checking his watch. “We’re going to be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

            “Oh, no,” said Sirius sarcastically. But they all followed Remus into the third-floor classroom where their class was held without a fuss. Now that they were in the last couple months of the school year, Defense Against the Dark Arts had gotten considerably more interesting—instead of learning about Red Caps and Fire Crabs, they were now talking about Dementors and vampires.

            James took his usual seat in the back of the room, Sirius and Remus on either side of him. He pulled out his textbook and flipped it open, stopping when he reached the chapter that came after vampires.

            “Oh, Re,” he murmured. “I’m guessing you didn’t read ahead this time.”

            “No,” Remus said, his face flushed white. His textbook was open to the same page.

            Professor Byrne swooped in in his usual raven-black robes. “Today, we’re going to be talking about werewolves,” he announced. “I’m sure this is one creature you all will have heard of.”

            James exchanged a glance with Sirius while the rest of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors in the room nodded fearfully. This was definitely going to be an interesting class. Professor Byrne knew Remus was a werewolf—it was why he had disliked Re from the moment he first saw him—so how was he going to handle this? James looked back at Remus, who was now nearly trembling.

            “Hey,” James murmured to him. “It’s going to be all right. Just calm down before everyone notices.” Remus nodded, biting his lip and breathing in deeply through his nose.

            “Werewolves,” Byrne began, “are wizards or Muggles infected with a disease known as lycanthropy, in which their bodies are physically forced to change shape under the influence of the full moon into bloodthirsty, wolf-like monsters. This condition spreads when one’s blood is contaminated with the saliva of a transformed werewolf—generally through a bite. Only transformed werewolves can spread their disease to others; but any bite or scratch from a werewolf, transformed or not, will be cursed and leave lasting scars.”

            James tried to picture the untransformed Remus Lupin biting or scratching someone, but the idea was too weird and absurd for him to wrap his head around. He would have laughed if he wasn’t busy ensuring that Remus kept his head up and didn’t faint.

            “Transformed werewolves can easily be distinguished from regular wolves,” Byrne continued. “A werewolf’s tail is tufted rather than bushy, and its snout is shorter than a true wolf’s. But most notably, while wolves tend to avoid attacking humans unless threatened or injured, werewolves attack and kill humans unprovoked, and ignore any other animals or life forms in their paths. Human blood is all they are interested in.” In front of him, James saw Mary Macdonald shudder.

            _Human blood is all they are interested in_. That gave James an idea, a crazy, brilliant idea. He raised his hand, causing everyone else in the class to turn around and look at him; James never raised his hand.

            Even Professor Byrne looked startled. “Yes, Mr. Potter?”

            “What about Animagi?” he asked.

            Professor Byrne crossed his arms. “What about them?”

            “Well,” James said, “they’re wizards, but they’re in the form of an animal. Would a werewolf still attack an Animagus?”

            “Good question,” said Byrne, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “I don’t believe that’s ever been tested. But an Animagus is physically one-hundred-percent animal when he transforms, so my assumption would be that a werewolf would consider him animal, too.”

            James grinned at Sirius, then turned around to grin at Peter and Remus. “You’re ridiculous, James,” Remus muttered. “There’s no way that’s going to work.”

            “Do you even know me, Remus Lupin?” James demanded. “If I want something to work, it’s going to work. Sirius, Petey and me are going to become Animagi, and we’re going to spend full moons in the Shrieking Shack with you.” 


End file.
